Poison
by Artaddict15
Summary: Neela Briar was brought up to be the perfect lady. Guess what?She wasn't. She was a tomboy with a dagger and an outspoken attitude. And to make things worse, she had a Redcoat officer trying to woo her every day. But what will she do when she happens to meet a certain man in a white hood? She finds herself stuck in the war behind the revolution.Will she be the poison or the cure?Oc
1. Unexpected Stranger

_**Hello lovelies! I have recently become obsessed with the recently released Assassin's Creed 3 game. Connor is by far my favorite assassin yet, so I thought I'd write a story about him. I do not own AC3, but I would give a hell of a lot of money to own Connor.**_

_****_Chapter 1: Unexpected Stranger

I listened carefully for the sound of my father's sleeping in the next room over. A snoring so loud it could wake the dead resounded throughout the house and I smiled. Once that man went to sleep, especially after he's had a nice drink of ale as he did tonight, the only way to wake him is to put a steaming warm plate of food somewhere that he could smell it. Which wasn't likely to happen anytime soon, as it was currently four o'clock in the morning.

I silently got out of bed and shed my white nightgown, pulling on the green hunting gear (things I took great care in hiding from my father), that I had borrowed from my mischievous friend Finley. He'd do anything if it meant getting a good laugh out of it, and that included giving me a spare set of his old clothes just to see "such a prim and pretty looking little miss strutting around in men's clothes". Anyone who knew me at all though, including Finley, knew that my public image and my real self were two very different things.

To the common eye, I was the sole daughter of the town's best blacksmith. I knew how to cook, clean, sew, and care for children as I often looked after my neighbors toddlers. I was also well mannered to those I deemed it necessary to be. Which is pretty much everyone that doesn't know me well or I don't have a particular disliking for. My mother, when she was still alive, had instilled in me all the things I would need to be the perfect lady, wife, and mother. So that is what others saw me as.

I pulled my long curly blond hair up away from my face, braiding it down my back and tying it off with a leather string. I tended to keep these secret expeditions to myself, though Finley sometime came with me, as didn't want anyone to impede on my personal time. These trips were the only times when I truly had peace and privacy. Around town, I couldn't conduct myself in any other way than a perfect young lady. And I found it incredibly suffocating.

I retrieved the blade I had taken years ago from my father's workshop that I kept hidden in a false floor board and placed it in my belt. It was a nice dagger, a tad bit longer than normal, but thin and easy to conceal in the folds of my skirts, as I often did. I took a quick look out the window, determining I had a good two or three hours before sunrise. I grabbed my pack and silently made my way down the stairs to the front door of my home, remembering at the last moment to flip the hood of my cloak up to conceal my face. It would be a disaster if people knew anything about these secret outings at night. Not to mention it would ruin my father's business and reputation. The only reason I even kept up this charade was for my father's happiness and well being.

I stealthily crept around my house to the alley in the back, careful to keep to the shadows. It wouldn't be good if the guards saw me and thought I was up to something more than I was. I'd heard stories of what those Redcoats do to patriot women... I shuddered and shook the thought from my head. Those King's dogs wouldn't get their hands on me.

I expertly traversed the back alleys and occasionally the roof tops when it was necessary until I came to the stone wall bordering the city. There were guards posted at the main entrance so that was out. There were also guards patrolling along the base of the wall so that was out also. From my hiding spot on the roof of the butcher's shop, I searched for another way over the wall. I found it maybe 20 yards away. There was a large branch overhanging the wall from a tree just outside the city lines. The tip of it was maybe a meter from the eaves of the building closest to it. If the timing was right, I was sure to make the jump unnoticed.

I quickly scaled the side of the building and perched on the very edge of the eaves, waiting for an opening. Once the guard below me had finally rounded the corner and was out of my line of sight I quickly leaped across the small distance to the nearby tree branch. I used the momentum from the jump to swing my body up and into the foliage, out of sight. The green of my cloak made for excellent camouflage.

I froze for awhile, listening to make sure no one had noticed me. When everything was silent I quickly scurried across the tree limb to the trunk, safely hidden in the shadows. Another successful "escape", though in reality I wasn't actually escaping to anywhere as I would return in a couple hours to make my father breakfast and go about my fake life.

I slipped down the trunk of the tree, ever grateful for my rambunctious childhood with Finley and "being a boy". We were troublemakers, he and I. We used to get into all kinds of mischief, playing pranks on the guards, tricking the less than educated baker into giving us some free bread, and of course, playing all sorts of games that girls really shouldn't have been playing. One of which was climbing trees.

He'd taught me a lot actually, all of my street savvy, my efficiency at lying, my tricks for bartering, my knack for eavesdropping and information gathering, and most importantly, my skills at fighting. Anything and everything that would disgrace another woman was taught to me by Finley, and I took great pride in it. Him being older than me by two years and of lower class than me made him knowledgable in these things.

We had met when I was very young, maybe five or six. I'd gotten lost in the market place. He found me and brought me back to my home, and we'd grown to be close friends ever since. Sometimes he'd joke about me being his protégée. Even though I don't see him as often now that he is married to his wonderful wife Tabitha, we still get into trouble like we did as children.

I smiled at the memories as I ran through the forest, one particular destination in mind. It was someplace Finley and I had discovered when I was ten during one of our many secret adventures in the forest. My smile brightened into a grin as a small meadow came into view with a clear river running through it, a single enormous maple tree standing in the very center. I rarely got to see its beauty in the daylight, now that I was older and had no choice but to come at night. Even then it's beauty was breathtaking, lit in soft shades by the moonlight.

This was my favorite place in all of Boston. I could be myself here, act as unladylike and improper as I wanted, without fear of judgement. Some of my fondest childhood memories were here, like when me and Finley would catch fish in the river as he made fun of me for showing my ankles in a man's presence, to which I had firmly responded that there was no man there. We had similar teasing bouts often, which eventually led him to teach me to fight.

With the colonists stirring for change and the threat of war hanging over our heads, he'd decided when I was twelve that it was best I learned to defend myself. Being no stranger to the streets or brawls, he was a capable teacher. He had taught me basic hand to hand fighting and also how to use my knife.

It had originally been crafted for a British officer, a picky and meticulous man by the name of William Johnson, who had specially ordered a dagger to his exact specifications. However, on the day he came to pick it up, he had decided he wanted to change the length, and forced my father to make a new one.

It was an unusual dagger, if you could call it that, with blades on each end, one 13 inches and the other 7 inches, with a handle in the middle. My father had decided that no one would buy such a dagger and threw in the back trunk with the rest of the spares. I had liked the weapon, odd and uncommon like me. So I had taken it from the trunk and started practicing with it. My father probably would have forgotten it by now.

I took the knife from its place on my belt and spun it around my index finger, a trick I had learned from Finley. It had been awhile since I'd played around with it. I flipped the dagger up into the air and caught it expertly with my other hand. I felt so free like this. A joyful laugh escaped my lips as I twirled the weapon like a baton. I looked over to the river, admiring the late spring flowers that bloomed in the grasses by the bank.

Near the water, a beautiful yellow flower caught my eye. I stopped my twirling and took out my mortar and pestle, my jars, and the alcohol I save for occasions such as this. After I'd started learning the apothecary trade from my neighbor whose children I often look after, I had taken to gathering the many medicinal herbs I found in this meadow and making tinctures that I would otherwise have to buy. From what I could see now, there were dandelions, yarrow, dock, and plantain ready to harvest.

I gathered the dandelions first, good for healthy organ function and many other things, and placed them in one of the jars. I gathered the yarrow next, excellent cold and flu medicine as well as bug repellent. Next was the dock, which would be for only me, as it was excellent for my monthly womanly issues. And the last was the plantain, as it was good for open wounds, stopping bleeding, extracting poison, cooling burns, etc... Whenever my father would burn his hands during his work, I would use this to help him. It's also more effective if prepared fresh, which is why I brought along the mortar and pestle so I could do it here.

I gathered an armful of the plentiful plants and started grinding them into the mortar, adding a bit of alcohol every now and again. It was hard but enjoyable work, and I found myself singing as I did it, a lullaby my mother used to sing to me when she was alive. It took maybe an hour, but finally, what had once been a large pile of greens was now reduced to a handful of green pungent paste. I sat back, satisfied with myself, before looking to the east. I had maybe an hour left before I would have to head back.

Suddenly, a crack resounded through the meadow from somewhere nearby. I jumped to my feet, pulling out my dagger in case it was a pack of wolves. But after keeping that ready position for a few minutes, I dropped my guard. Surely a pack of wolves would have attacked me by now had it really been that. Perhaps a tree branch had fell somewhere...

I froze as I felt cold, sharp metal press against the delicate skin of my neck. My eyes widened and my breathing hitched in shock. I hadn't even heard him behind me! There was no precursor to his presence, no signal of his approach. Only silence. I stood there, scared stiff for a couple of moments before a deep, almost forced voice spoke from close behind me.

"Drop your weapon," he demanded. His voice sounded strained and stiff. I immediately released the dagger that was at my side, it's longest blade sticking upright in the ground. I knew I had no chance against this man when his knife was poised at my throat. I would have to talk my way out of this. That is, if my voice would even work through the nerves.

"Who are you?" He asked gruffly. I shivered as his warm breath brushed across the back of my exposed neck. I opened my mouth but no sound came out. An absolutely enormous hand clamped around my bicep and squeezed painfully. An odd wheezing sound escaped my throat in terror, prompting me to speak.

"M-My name is Neela Briar. I'm the d-daughter of the town b-blacksmith." I stuttered nervously in a quiet voice. The tension on my arm loosened a little at the sound of my voice, but the blade at my neck remained steady. I resisted the urge to gulp, as I would probably slit my own throat if I did.

"Why are you here?" The man asked. He began to move slowly around me, always keeping his knife in place, unwavering. This time I was less hesitant to answer, and my voice came out a bit louder.

"I sometimes come here to practice using my knife or to collect medicinal herbs." I glanced down to my supplies, which were still strewn at the side of the bank. I sucked in a breath when the man moved in front of me. He was _huge_. He towered over me by a good two or three heads. Granted I was not the tallest girl ever, in fact, I was a bit an the petite side, but he was just ridiculous.

He had broad shoulders and thick muscles, the type that made you feel breakable just by looking at them. He was dressed in well worn clothes, though they looked incredibly well made, odd as they were, with weapons of every kind strapped to his person. His face remained unknown though, hidden in the dark shadows cast by the white hood of his jacket. The descending moon lit his figure from behind, making him look considerably more formidable than he already was.

"Why so early in the morning?" He questioned, knife still at my neck. I was sure there was something wrong with him now. Either he was really angry with me or he was in serious pain. I let my eyes wonder carefully as I answered his question.

"I couldn't let anyone see me coming out here all by myself, and dressed like this no less. Especially not those guards. I've heard stories about what happens to young women if they're not careful with who they run into. They might decide that a girl walking alone in the woods is too good an opportunity to pass up." I shuddered involuntarily at the thought. My friend Abigail had been one of those unfortunate victims, caught in an alleyway late in the night on her way home from the physician's. She hasn't been the same since.

Something in my expression must have convinced him to believe me, because the blade pointed at my neck suddenly and unexpectedly retreated into what appeared to be leather wrist guards. As his arm dropped to his side I finally caught a glimpse of a large dark spot on the side of his stomach.

"Oh my god, you're bleeding!" I exclaimed, pointing at the steadily growing red stain on his clothes. He looked startled by my sudden outburst and placed a hand on his wound, putting pressure on it. I could feel my caretaker instincts taking over, completely disregarding the fact that this man had held me at knife point not moments before.

"Here, I'll help you. Go sit down over by that tree." I commanded, gathering my pack and supplies, careful not to spill any of the paste that I had not been expecting to use so soon. I removed my hood from my face so it wouldn't hinder my work. When I turned around he was still standing in the exact same place, staring at me. My face scrunched up in annoyance."Didn't you hear me? I said go sit over by that tree! I'm going to fix up that wound for you. If the bleeding doesn't stop soon you'll die, and it's not going to stop by itself judging by the placement."

I sighed when he still didn't move or speak. He just continued to stare at me. I took a risk and grabbed the sleeve of his odd jacket, knowing he could probably kill me in a split second if he wanted to. He didn't though, and with a bit of reluctance, followed me to the great maple tree. I sat him down, a bit forcefully, at the base, and began the process I'd seen my neighbor do countless times. I could feel myself dropping into the efficiency that came with tending to wounds. I had seen it done so many times, and done it myself once or twice, that the movements became automatic.

"Please unbutton your shirt." I asked him, already into caretaker mode. His head snapped up to look at me and, though I still couldn't see his eyes as they were still immersed in shadow, I caught his defined jaw twitch. The movement brought my attention to his skin. It was darker than mine, and had a bit of a reddish tint to it. A Native perhaps? That would explain the tomahawk strapped to his waist. I pondered the idea for a moment, all of the rumors I'd heard about the Natives. I shrugged. Oh well.

I looked down after readying my supplies to see that he had not done what I'd asked but was still looking at me. If I hadn't heard him speak perfect English just a minute ago I would have thought he didn't understand me.

"Are you deaf or something? Don't just sit there and look at me! I need you to move your clothing aside so I can get to the wound! So just do it before I do it myself!" I ranted, letting my temper loose. When he didn't move I took a menacing step forward. He huffed and started to loosen the buttons of his shirt before pulling the white fabric away.

For a moment I just stared. He was _ripped_. His chest and stomach were lined with hard, toned muscle, the kind you can only get from extensive and prolonged physical activity. He also had multiple scars across his midsection, from both blades and burns.

When I realized I had been staring I looked down, hoping he couldn't see the blush spreading across my cheeks. I shook my head and turned back to the matter at hand. I took a few steps over to him, pulling away the side of his shirt to reveal a gruesome wound. Obviously an injury created intentionally by another person's blade. He'd been in a fight.

I grabbed one of the pieces of cloth I used for storing dried plants in and wet it in the river. I brought it back over to him and began cleaning his wound. As I cleared the blood away I sighed in relief.

"Thank goodness. The gash is large but not deep. Here, hold this wet cloth to the cut and put pressure on it while I prepare some bandages." He did as I asked, still not saying a word, still observing me. I took out a roll of white bandages from my pack, always prepared, and grabbed the mortar full of the paste I had made earlier. Just as I was about to spread the paste on the bandage, an enormous hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. I looked over to the hooded man questioningly.

"What is that?" He nodded his head towards the green paste. He sounded guarded and suspicious. Did he think I would poison him or something? I smiled reassuringly.

"This is medicine to help stop the bleeding and remove the pain and any foreign substances from your blood stream like bacteria or poison. It's a paste made from crushed plantain leaves and roots. You may smell it if you wish." I held the bowl out to him and he sniffed cautiously before nodding, obviously recognizing the scent. I smiled and began spreading the paste on the bandage. While I was doing this, I was studying the mystery man from the corner of my eye.

"So how did you end up like this?" I asked casually, well, trying to sound casual and failing because of the curiosity evident in my voice. He didn't answer, as expected, and I sighed. I had finished smearing the bandages with the paste and began wrapping it around his midsection, trying my hardest not to blush as my hands brushed his prominent muscles.

"Alright, let's go with something easier then. What is your name?" I asked him as I was finishing up. I was not expecting an answer from him, so it surprised me when he spoke, just as I was securing the end of his bandage. I looked at him, shocked that he had actually answered me.

"Connor, Connor Kenway." For a split second I glimpsed the most beautiful golden brown eyes I had ever seen gazing back at me, before they disappeared behind his white hood once again. It took me a moment to remember how to breathe. I smiled at him.

"Connor, what a nice name. It suits you." I could have been wrong but I think I might have just witnessed the beginning of a smile on his face. I looked to the eastern sky and swore under my breath. It was already past the time I should have started on my way back. I hurriedly got to me feet and gathered my stuff into my pack. I took one last look at the hooded man and smiled brightly.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Connor. And thank you for not killing me," I pulled my dagger from where it still stood in the ground, "I hope we'll meet again."

I began walking towards the edge of the clearing in the direction of the town. I stopped when I heard his low voice call quietly behind me.

"Thank you," he said. I whipped around, only to find him not under the tree anymore. He'd disappeared. I shook my head in wonder and looked at the sky again, cursing. I'd have to run if I was going to make it back in time.

So without another thought, I sprinted in the direction of the wall I had crossed earlier that morning.

**_Good Lord, that was a long chapter. Hope I got this off to a decent start. Fair warning, though, this story will eventually get a little graphic, but I will tell young when those parts are coming up. RxR Please!_**


	2. Unwanted Affections

_**Now it is time to introduce a new antagonist! Just to make things juicier. I kind of based this new guy off of Gaston from Beauty and the Beast, except this guy is way scarier and way smarter. Also, I would like to warn you again that the rating of this story will probably change. And I do not own Assassins Creed 3, even though it would be awesome if I did.**_

Chapter 2: Unwanted Affections

It had been seven months since my encounter with Connor and for some reason, I just can't get him out of my head. He would just appear in my thoughts randomly throughout the day. As I walked down the street, I would catch myself looking around to see if I could spot his white hood walking among the crowds. In my neighbor's apothecary, I would stare at the jars of plantain oils for long periods of time, until Mr. Yelding would wave in front of my face and ask what was wrong. In my father's black smith shop in the downstairs portion of our house I would swear I'd catch a glimpse of a tomahawk among the many weapons laying around only to blink and find it's nothing but an axe. I think I might be going crazy.

But still I got up and ready for another day of acting like a lady. What a boring existence, to pretend to be something you're not everyday, to act like you're happy with a life that doesn't even deserve to be called a life. I'm just existing, forever stuck on the same page of the story. It was monotonous and maddening.

I dressed in my church frock, though fancier than it should be with me wearing the accursed corset my aunt had ordered me to wear everyday. I hated the thing, how I couldn't breathe or sit down comfortably in it. How it constricted my movements to near none and made it so incredibly difficult to defend myself should there ever be a need, and I did need to some times. I didn't have to wear it all the time, thank The Lord, only the days that I had to see my aunt, such as today. She was coming to force me and my father to go to her church.

We hated her church, just crawling with Redcoats and Loyalist nuts. I hated it more for the corsets and the King's dogs, my father hated it more because he wasn't all that religious. Neither was I truthfully, but we went to please my aunt, our only other remaining family member. I hurried down the creaky old stairs to try to get my father to tie my corset before my aunt got there and squeezed the life out of me. My father was usually more lenient about the tightness then Aunt Patricia was.

I heard the door bang open downstairs and mentally cursed my bad luck.

"Neeeeellllaaaaa!" The woman shrieked in her shrill voice, reminding me of the sound of dying sea gulls. I slowed my pace as I neared the wooden door leading into the workshop, stalling for time. I braced myself for impact with a polite smile on my face as I opened the door.

"Good day to you, Aunt Patricia. I trust you've been well?" I forced a smile onto my face at the sight of her. I always made sure to use proper speech in front of my aunt, for fear she'd nag me for hours about my atrocious self-conduct and give me more of her abhorrent "etiquette lessons". Really they should be called torture sessions.

She wore more make up than was needed, making her resemble the jesters I'd heard plagued the French courts, or a bad imitation of the male actors played up to be women on stage. A gaudy yellow dress adorned her slightly plump figure, covered in lace and frills intended to make the outfit seem less cheap than it was, and failing miserably. She clutched a pair of white rabbit fur gloves in her hand, apparently feeling the need to show off her best set now that there was a chill in the air. I bowed my head a bit in fake respect and she turned her beady black eyes on me.

"Neela, why aren't you ready yet?! We must be there in a half hour! Come here now so I can tie your corset!" She squawked in that gull voice of hers. My smile faltered as I reluctantly made my way over to her and my father gave me a sympathetic look. My aunt flipped me around and I grabbed hold of the table. I had to muffle my cry of pain when my aunt suddenly yanked the strings of the corset, sending a sharp pain through my ribs.

"You've been giving her much too much leeway on the tightness Aiden, it's like she doesn't wear them at all!" She shrilled. I gave my father a weak smile, which he returned, seeing as how I really didn't wear my corset.

My father was a burly man, if a little heavy around the middle, hardened from his years hard at work with the hammer. He had wild ginger hair, a trademark of his Irish heritage, with an accent to match. His eyes were a bright, almost luminescent green, quite like those of a cat, the only trait I had inherited from him besides his personality. He was a good natured man with a healthy beard and laugh lines. The best man I knew and my best friend.

I sucked in a breathe as the pain in my ribs increased from the tightness. I really didn't like these infernal things. It hurt to wear them and they pushed my breasts up to an uncomfortable level. How other women wore them every day was a mystery to me. I would prefer to wear breast bindings over corsets any day.

"There now. Nice and thin in the waist. If you don't have a small waist and aren't presentable, that young British officer's eyes will leave you for another girl. We can't have that now can we! Stand up straight and keep your shoulders back! Stop that complaining, it's unsightly! You know Aiden you really should start the wedding preparations with such a lovely suitor for your daughter hanging about! Don't know why you haven't yet..." She babbled on. Yet another reason why I hated being a lady.

For a year now some Redcoat lout at least ten years my senior has been trying to court me. He was a brute of a man, handsome enough and clever, with rank and money, no doubt the reason my aunt favors him so much. But he was arrogant, cruel, and it was no secret he got around with the ladies. I was just his newest prize to conquer, and the fact that I refused to give made the game that much more entertaining to him.

I could care less for a British dog, especially that one, though I'd never voice my patriot opinion for fear of my safety and my father's reputation. Plus the look in his eyes spoke loudly of a possessiveness and hunger that would secretly frighten me. But I'd never let that man see, it might give him reason to act on it. My only solace was that my father didn't seem to care for him either. In fact, he would chase him out with whatever weapon he was working on every time the officer came to our door.

As I put on the remainder of my outfit, my thoughts once again turned to Connor. Who is he? What is he doing now? Will I meet him again? For some strange reason my gut was telling me I'd find out the answer to my questions soon enough.

"Neela, it's time to leave!" My aunt called from downstairs.

"Coming!" I yelled as I ran from my bedroom and followed her and my father out the door. And time to put on my smile and endure the day. Oh how I wished I could just spend my day in my neighbor's apothecary shop, the one place besides the forest where I felt at ease. As a woman, I could not take up an apprenticeship anywhere, but being there was the closest I could ever get to it, seeing as how Mr. Yelding enjoyed my company as I looked after his kids and had no qualms about teaching me his trade unofficially while on the job. Working with medicinal herbs was my only real talent besides using my knife and singing. All of the other things I was good at I had learned from necessity or practice. It was also one of my more useful skills.

Through the use of herbs I had maintained a more healthy body and mind than most. When I spoke to people, they seemed to think that I naturally had none of the bodily reactions that most are afflicted with at my age, or any other age. I had no blemishes on my face, no greasy hair, no body odor or stretch marks, all very uncommon for a 16 year old girl in this day and age. It was my use of herbs that gave me these advantages. Truthfully I don't know why other people don't make full use of them. However, not having these kinds of disadvantages brought troubles of a different kind.

Troubles like that persistent British dog James Guildor, the officer that has been trying to court me for the last year, who just so happened to be quickly making his way towards me as I walked down the street, followed by a group of soldiers. I immediately turned down a separate alley way, hoping to avoid his notice. Aunt Patricia would have my head for missing church but it wasn't worth running into _that_.

As I made my way down the alley I suddenly heard a loud thump behind me. Out of pure instinct, I whipped around, dagger already in hand and ready to use. My eyes quickly flicked over the scene in front of me, looking for the threat. But instead, I was met with a familiar white hooded figure in a similar stance, hidden blade pointed directly at me not two inches from my face. My heart gave a little leap in my chest, though not from fear. I smiled at him.

"It's nice to see you again, Connor. You know, we've got to stop meeting like this. For once I'd like to see your face before the edge of your blade." I lowered my dagger down to my side and he followed suit, retracting it back into the cuff of his sleeve. Again the only thing I could see was the lower half of his face. He looked a bit sweaty and out of breath.

I heard shouting from around the corner in the Main Street, from which I could just make out the voice of that smellsmock, James. Connor looked anxiously towards the streets and looked ready to run. Perhaps he had been chased? Well I certainly wasn't going to give James the satisfaction of catching him, and if I was being honest with myself, I didn't want Connor to be caught. I smiled and pointed to a large pile of hay in the corner of the alley.

"You go hide in that hay over there and I'll get them off your tail." He looked a bit hesitant, as if he wasn't willing to trust me. I rolled my eyes and pushed him in the direction of the hay rather harshly. "Haven't changed at all, I see. Don't worry and just trust me."

"I think he went this way!" James shouted just around the corner. I hid my dagger in the folds of my skirt just as I heard the rustling of the hay behind me. I turned around and faced the group of guards just turning into the alley, James leading them. They stopped when they saw me.

"Neela! How wonderful to see you!" James walked forward, his arms wide in greeting and his icy blue eyes sparking. I grimaced at him.

"I wish I could return the sentiment, James." I crossed my arms, refusing to meet his unwanted embrace. He tsked me and put an arm around my waist, pulling me into his side.

"Don't say that, you'll come around eventually. By the way, have you seen a man in a white hood running around? He's wanted for the murder of a group of guards and for interfering with the collection of taxes." He asked me with a gleaming white smile, no doubt trying to charm me like all those countless other unfortunate women. I could feel his breath on my hair and I pushed away from him in the most polite way I could manage. His smile faltered a bit at this, annoyed at my lack of response to his cajoling.

As discreetly as I could, I wiped the hand that had touched him on my skirt, wishing to rub away any traces of him off my skin. The other guards laughed and I could see the anger building up on James' face. He didn't like being embarrassed in front of his subordinates, especially not by a woman.

He was a _massive_ chauvinist, you see. It was one of the reasons I didn't like him. Really, I didn't know why all the young women swooned at the sight of him, when he degraded them so much. Sure he was handsome and all, not my type, but had those sharp, pointed lines of his face, the angular features that were so popular with the ladies and eyes that, to those not well practiced at seeing the coldness in their frosty color, seemed beautiful. But the fact that he knew he was attractive, and used it to his advantage in order to bed the easier women in town, just increased his already engorged ego and made me dislike him more. Plus there was the fact that he wouldn't leave me alone.

"As a matter of fact, I have. Just a moment ago I saw a most suspicious character run by me down that way." I pointed down Main Street in the way I'd just come, hoping to get the men to leave. Well, most specifically James to leave. He turned his head to look down the alleyway.

"Go and follow him boys, he can't have gotten too far!" He ordered the lower ranking soldiers, still looking irritated. The sight of his discomfort was actually very pleasing to me. The guards all hastily ran in the direction that the hooded man had supposedly run.

"Best be off then, don't want to keep your lackeys waiting." I told him with a smile. His eyebrow twitched at my comment and I could hear his teeth grind together, but I payed it no mind since it was just a part of our usual arguments. But this time I had managed to make him genuinely angry. I turned, expecting James to depart as well, but was suddenly yanked roughly into the wall of the alley by a hand on my wrist.

I looked up, surprised, into hungry blue eyes. He had me trapped on the wall, his hand holding both of my wrists, making it impossible to reach for my weapon. Of all the times he had approached me asking to court me, he had never been so forceful. He usually tried to give me petty compliments or expensive and meaningless gifts, trying to impress me with his wealth and charm. Of course, I had never once accepted the gifts. Perhaps, if he'd shown me a single redeeming quality in his everyday behavior, I might have reconsidered. But I knew just what kind of activities he and his gang took part in.

Having him rip off his fake "good boy" facade in front of me, showing me the nature I had always known was there, was a shock. And, truthfully, it made me a little scared.

He inclined his face towards mine, close enough that I could feel his breath sweep across my face. His eyes harbored all of the hardness, cruelty, and anger that I had always seen stewing under the surface.

"How long must you deny me? For one whole year I have tried to gain your attention, and still you refuse me. You know how much I want you. I have rank, money, prestige! What more could you want in a man!" He shouted at me. I looked at him sharply, trying to hide the fear fluttering in my chest with the indignation I felt at his words.

"Everything! You throw around your money and rank like a shiny toy, hoping to impress me! You think yourself so high and noble but really it's just a product of your inflated ego! Did you think that buying me presents and giving me shallow complements would distract me from all the terrible things you and your fellow soldiers do? I've seen the way you act when you think I'm not looking. The face you put on for me is no more than a lie you fabricated to deceive me and every other unsuspecting woman you come across. You may be able to buy other girls' hearts with charm and lies but not mine! I'd rather die a spinster than marry a selfish, arrogant man like y-!" I was abruptly cut off by his lips crushing down onto mine and my words were muffled against his mouth. I was briefly shocked by the action, as he had never forced himself on me before. That shock wore off quickly, however, when one of his hands came up to grab the back of my neck and his body moved to further press me against the wall. I tried to tell him to get off of me, to shake him off, but to no avail. He was much stronger than me and with his hand around my wrists, I couldn't get to my dagger.

I was starting to panic. A million images flitted through my mind, of the countless times James had come to my door bearing gifts intended to woo me, of him and his little band of Redcoat sycophants laughing as they beat a poor colored man who happened to pass too close on the street, of him leading the barmaid of the Green Tavern up the stairs to a spare room with false sweet words, and finally, of Connor's eyes watching me from inside the pile of hay, no doubt witnessing this embarrassing display.

With a sudden burst of courage, I did the only form of defense I could muster. I bit his lip hard until I tasted the metallic and slightly salty twinge of blood on my tongue. James let me go and stepped back with a cry of pain.

"You bit me!" He exclaimed in a mixture of outrage and surprise. He lifted his fingers to his now bleeding mouth. I had to stop myself from smirking in satisfaction.

"That's what you get for forcing yourself on a woman. I have said this before and I'll say it again. I have absolutely _no_ intention of becoming your wife, now or ever. I don't care what kind of easy life you might offer me. I want to marry for love, not material gain. And I am far from loving you." I told him in a hard voice. I needed to get this across. Perhaps he might finally see that I would never be interested in him, though that seemed unlikely. He took a step towards me, his full height looming ominously over me. I refused to back down.

"Make no mistake, Neela Briar, you _will_ be mine. It's just a matter of _when_. And it will be soon. Very soon." He looked down at me and sneered confidently and evilly. I shivered, truly fearing him for the first time in my life.

"Sir, we've lost sight of him." One of the lower ranking soldiers said from the opening of the alley. James turned to him, his military mask already in place.

"Keep looking! We must find him! I will join you!" He gave me one more fleeting glance before running out of the alley behind the other soldier. I released a shaky breath I hadn't known I'd been holding. My heart beat pounded in my head and left a loud ringing sensation in my ears.

I felt a hand on my arm and gasped, thinking for one irrational moment that it was James even though I'd just seen him leave. I turned around with eyes wide, half expecting to see brown hair and icy blue eyes looking back at me, but was surprised to find a pair of golden brown ones instead. It was only for an instant before they were covered by shadow again, but it was enough for me to see concern and some other emotion floating in their depths. I sighed in relief.

"Oh Connor, it's just you. For a moment I'd thought... Oh well, never mind. Anyways, I'm sorry you had to see that, it was a bit embarrassing for me. Well at least they're off your tail..." I trailed off when he lifted one brown thumb to the corner of my mouth. He ran his finger along the edge of my lip and I blushed scarlet, my heart fluttering in my chest. He brought his hand away and I was surprised to see it stained red.

_James' blood_. My subconscious informed me. I hastily wiped the back of my hand across my mouth, blushing in embarrassment.

"Are you alright?" He asked in that entrancing deep voice, surprising me in that he seemed the type to not speak unless he had to. It was a shock how much that voice had an effect on me. My heart was racing in my rib cage, pounding against my corset. I looked down, embarrassed that he'd seen me in such a position with James.

"Yes, I'm fine. James has been pursuing me for a while now. I've tried to tell him I'm not interested but he just won't listen. Someday he'll come to his senses. He can find his perfect little wife somewhere else." I rubbed my arm knowing that I just lied. He wasn't going to give up on me any time soon, I'd have to marry another man or move to another state for him to leave me alone. Though I doubt even that would stop him. James was the type of guy who was used to getting what he wanted, and doing anything in order to get what didn't come easily to him. That included me.

"I may be out of line, but it seems that man wants more from you than just companionship." Connor told me gravely. I nodded solemnly, knowing all too well from the previous encounter what he meant. It had frightened me far more than I was letting on.

"Should you ever need help, I live in a small encampment just north of here. You are always welcome to stay there if you wish. The people there would do well with a steady hand for herbal remedies." He told me. I looked up in surprise, that he would remember my apothecary hobby and that he would ever ask a woman to work the trade. Such a proposition was highly uncommon, as women were often looked down upon as the weaker sex. It sounded nice, to get away from here, but I knew I couldn't go.

"As tempting as the offer is, I must decline. I have my father to look after. I can't just leave him to himself. Thank you though." I smiled sadly at him, wishing I could go. He just nodded and stood there. I heard shouting down the street. "You should go, before they catch you. It was nice to be able to see you again. Good bye." I turned to leave the alley, willing to dissuade more people from finding Connor if I could.

"If ever you need it, my Homestead will always be open to you. If you need my help, and I am close enough to hear, just whistle. Good bye for now, Neela, and thank you for your help." I turned to ask him how he could possibly know if I was whistling for help, but he was gone. He seemed to have a certain knack for vanishing into thin air. I shook my head in amusement and amazement before going to find my Aunt, sure to punish me harshly for skipping church.

_**Enter James! Think forceful, abusive ex boyfriend with rank and money and you've got him, except he's never actually been with the main character. This should make for interesting plot development, if I do say so myself. Of course I already know this because I have about the first 10 chapters planned out already. Read and review people! I like it when you tell me things!**_


	3. Hiding Place

_**I didn't realize this before but some of the terms I use for the British are kind of mean. For any British people who happen to read this story, please do not take offense, I do not actually think these things about you. This story is written from the point of view of a patriot woman, so it's going to be a little biased. Sorry. Anyways, I do not own AC3, though I wish I owned Connor. Yum.**_

Chapter 3: Hiding Place

I touched the tender bruise that was beginning to form on my left cheekbone and sighed. I'd certainly gotten the punishment I had expected. Aunt Patricia had been furious when I hadn't shown up to church. Apparently she had arranged for a few young men to come and meet me, potential suitors. She was determined to marry me off to someone by the time I was 18. Which basically meant only one more year of freedom for me. And I'd be damned if I ended up marrying that pervert James. I was serious when I said I'd rather be a spinster.

A carried the lone candle I had for light to the window and looked out on a sleeping Boston. Though tonight, it seemed, was less quiet than most. If I squinted I could just see some commotion on the harbor. A riot perhaps? I wouldn't be surprised. There was a riot practically everyday in town now, getting progressively worse. There hadn't been a day that went by in the past few weeks when there wasn't some poor colonist being hauled off to prison. I wished I could join them in protest. But if my aunt caught me doing anything even mildly out of line, I was sure to receive a much worse beating than I had today. Which also meant that there would be no more night trips to the woods.

I sighed again. I wonder how long it would take to get me off the hook. I don't think I'd be able to last more than a few weeks stuck in this house before I'd go insane. Acting like the well bred colonist woman that I'm not was a strain.

I looked up and out over the roof tops of the houses, dreaming of freedom to the back drop of the night sky over the harbor. That is, until I saw a dark figure run across the very rooftop I had been viewing. I lifted my head in curiosity. I could have sworn...

I saw a group of guards running clumsily over the roof tops behind the figure. Well, now I was sure it was Connor. Who else would be running on rooftops in the night being chased by guards? He certainly was a troublemaker, even more so than me. This was the second time today I'd seen him running from soldiers.

Briefly, I wondered what he did this time. James had said earlier that he had killed a group of soldiers and was interfering with tax collectors. At first I had been surprised that such an act was possible, defeating an entire group of soldiers single handedly. Not that I had a problem this.

Was he some kind of freelance revolutionist? One of those Sons of Liberty I'd been hearing about? But he seemed much too lethal to be a mere up-starter. No, he was something more. Though what, I wasn't quite sure. I knew I was going to find out, that was certain.

I opened my window to the chill autumn breeze and the smell of salt. I wanted to call out to him, but calling his name would be foolhardy. He looked to be in a bit of a jam, with those guards following him, probably looking for some place to hide or escape. I thought of what he told me earlier. Perhaps I could just...

I brought my fingers to my lips and whistled loudly, the sound resonating in the quiet hovering over the city. It almost sounded like some kind of strange bird in the night sky. For a moment he didn't change course. I whistled again and he looked over. I waved my arms, gesturing for him to come my way. He leaped across the distance of the road, a feat I would have thought impossible, and started running on the roof tops towards my window. I hurriedly stepped back. He sprung silently into the room through the open window and I drew the curtains after him, making sure none of the light escaped and gave us away. For a moment all I could hear was his heavy breathing.

"You can hide here till they're gone." I whispered. He nodded once, still looking out of breath. He just kind of stood there awkwardly for a while. I took a moment to recognize how out of place the hulking, weapon clad man looked in my room. He looked much more suited to the forest as I had seen him that first night than in my quaint little bedroom. He looked rather intimidating just standing there, with his body tense and ready to draw a weapon at any moment. It carried a similar feeling to a mountain lion suddenly slinking into my room.

"Well, make yourself at home. You might be here fore a while." I sat down on my bed and patted the space next to me. I wanted to talk to this mystery man, and this was the perfect opportunity. He was a puzzle that was just waiting to be solved, and the more curious side of my nature beckoned me to be the one to do it. He shifted uncomfortably in his place, his guard dropping a bit as he began to step forward. He stopped mid stride.

"Have you nothing...more appropriate to wear?" He asked looking away, the first time I've ever heard hesitation in his voice. I glanced down at myself and blushed, realizing I was dressed only in my nightgown. It was considered highly inappropriate for a man to see a woman in anything so revealing before marriage. Hell, it was inappropriate for a man to even see a woman's ankles before marriage.

"Oh right, well let's see," I got up from the bed and made my way towards the wooden trunk in the corner. I rifled through the clothing and came out with the heavy green hunters cloak I usually wore when going out into the woods, the one he had once seen me in. If you looked closely, you could just see a bit of blood where his wound had stained it on the left corner. It would cover all the necessary parts. I draped it over myself and quickly tied it in the front. "There. That's better." I went over and sat back down on the bed, motioning him to follow me. He did, albeit reluctantly, and sat down awkwardly on the farthest end of the bed. I pulled my knees up to my chest.

"So tell me about yourself, Connor." I said, leaning towards him and widening my eyes innocently. He leaned back, as if not knowing what to make of me. Granted I was strange so I couldn't hold it against him.

"What would you like to know?" He asked cautiously. I tapped my finger to my chin, picking which of my many questions I should ask first.

"Well, let's start with why it is you feel the need to point a weapon at me every time we meet." I asked with a hint of humor in my voice.

"I might ask you the same thing." He countered. An obvious attempt to avoid the question, but I let it go.

"Touché. Well then how about why it is that most of the times I have seen you, you have been chased by guards? Don't get me wrong, there have been plenty a situation where I've needed to run myself, just not quite so often. Were you involved in that little display down at the docks?" I asked, as it seemed the most likely cause. He nodded. I motioned for him to elaborate.

"Many of the townsfolk were not happy with the recent taxes on British tea. It was someone's idea that boycott alone was not enough. I am afraid the latest shipment is now floating in the harbor." He watched me carefully to see how I would react. I kept my face stone, though inside I was beating myself up. I wished I'd been a part of it. That sounded much more entertaining than my usual pranks on British soldiers.

"And you were part of this?" He just nodded. "You have my congratulations then. I'd been a participant in the boycotts against tea and paper for the past month, though I couldn't make due without sugar because of my father's cravings. I only wish I could have helped. Give those Red Devils what they deserve." He looked shocked to hear me say this, as shocked as the hood would allow, as if he was expecting me to call the guards on him. He should have learned by now that I wouldn't give him up to the dogs. I leaned back on my hands and looked at the ceiling.

"I have a few questions for you as well." He said unexpectedly. I looked over to him, surprised that he would initiate a conversation.

"Oh? What about a little colonist girl like me could possibly interest you?" I teased with a playful smile.

"I was wondering why a little colonist girl like you, as you put it, was wandering about the forest in the early hours of the morning, even before the hens are awake." The smile dropped off my face.

"Oh that." I looked away, embarrassed.

"Yes, that. You are aware that there are wolves and scouts around that area that could harm you." He told me in a bit of a lecturing voice. I did know that, actually, as I had come across them before. He didn't seem to think I could handle myself, which was reasonable, as he had never seen me fight.

"Or random wounded men that appear out of nowhere with a knife held to my throat?" I raised an eyebrow at him and smirked. He cleared his throat and I sighed.

"Well, as you might have noticed, I am not exactly what you'd call 'normal'. I'm unladylike and outspoken and sometimes I can be a bit rash. The people here look down on these qualities, so most of the time I have to hide them, if nothing but for my father's reputation. I have to be the perfect young lady everyone expects me to be. Sometimes, it's a bit smothering. It's those times when I go to the forest, just to be able to get away and be myself. If anyone had seen me walking around in those clothes I would have been the laughing stock of the town. An outcast. That would bring bad business to my father's store. I couldn't do that to him." He nodded as if he understood. Perhaps my story made sense to him.

"Which brings us back to you." I said, wishing to get the subject off myself. "How did you get that wound, that night in the forest?" He shifted uncomfortably, as if he didn't want to say.

"I had gotten into a fight with a group of guards, and was wounded. That is all." Something told me he was lying, or at least not telling me the whole truth, but I let it go. Despite my raging curiosity about him, Connor had a right to his privacy. That was not to say I would give up trying to unveil it anytime soon, but he had the right to try and keep his secrets hidden until I succeeded in unmasking them. I looked up into his hooded face, the most tantalizing mystery of all, and suddenly had the urge to actually _see_ the man I was talking to.

"May I, uhm...see your face?" I asked, reaching out. He stiffened, but didn't move as I brought my hand to the edge of his hood. I held my breath as my fingers brushed the white fabric obscuring his face.

"I think I saw him climb through this window!" I heard someone shout right outside the room, on the roof. I gasped, surprised at the sudden break in the tension that had been building up unnoticed, and scrambled for the candle. I blew the flame out quickly and looked frantically around the room for a place that could hide the large white hooded man. He wouldn't be able to fit under the bed or in my small closet, his feet would be seen if he hid behind the draperies, and he would be heard if he tried to leave the room because my door squeaks loudly. That only left...

"Quick! Hide under the blanket!" I hissed under my breath through the darkness. I flopped back onto the bed, removing my green cloak and throwing it across the room to the trunk in the corner so as not to look suspicious.

"What?!" He hissed back, shocked. Impatient, I grabbed him by the front of his shirt and hauled him down onto the bed beside me so he was sandwiched between me and the wall, flat on his back. The bed was not big enough for both of us so he ended up half way underneath me.

"Don't ask, just do it! And shut up will you!" I grabbed the blanket and pulled it over his head, tucking it under my chin so only my head was visible. I hastily closed my eyes and tried my hardest to appear as if I were asleep, trying to calm my racing heart beat.

The feeling of Connor's warm breath on my neck sent shivers down my spine. I heard the windows creak open and the curtains pushed aside and struggled to breathe slow and even, as believable as I could make it.

"Do you see him?" Someone whispered.

"No, it's just some girl sleeping." Another answered.

"Well check around the room, make sure he's not hidin' nowhere. But make sure not ta wake the girl! We don't want no screamin'!" A more illiterate third voice hissed. All right, I'll admit it, I was starting to panic a little. If they found him in my room I'd probably be arrested for treason. And if anyone found him in my bed, I'd be talked about like a whore.

I shifted quietly, rolling farther onto Connor so that most of my body covered his, willing them to overlook the oversized lump under the blankets. I shivered at the contact, acutely feeling the warmth of his body heat through the thin layer of my night gown. I'd never willingly been this close to a man besides Finley or my father before, and they were family. But the thought of being caught now terrified me, making the disregard of proper etiquette easier than it would normally be. I could only be glad that no one could see my blush in the darkness. My body was twitching nervously from the stress.

"Oi!" One of the men whisper exclaimed. My body went rigid against Connor's abdomen as I waited for them to pull off the cover and find the hidden criminal. I could faintly feel Connor clench one of his fists under the blanket. My heart was practically punching a hole in my chest, so loud I'm sure Connor could hear it. Let them think he is a pillow, let them think he is a pillow, let them think he is a pillow, "There's nothing in here!" I relaxed in relief.

"Well let's head out then." I heard their heavy footsteps creaking on the old floor boards and the window banged closed behind them. I waited a few moments. Nothing.

"I think they're gone." I whispered. He grunted in agreement, the sound a bit strained for some reason. I reached for the candle on the nightstand and sighed.

"That was a close one." I lit the candle with a match from the box I kept beside my bed. But when I looked down, my breath caught.

Connor's hood had fallen back and his face was no more than a few inches from mine, still resting on the pillow below me. And I had to say, he was one of the most handsome men I'd ever seen. He had a pronounced jaw and defined nose, with hair as black as a raven's feather and skin reminiscent of the Natives I'd heard so much about. And his eyes, such a beautiful golden brown, of the like I had never seen before. They looked so out of place on his dark skin, yet they seemed to glow from within, as if the candle had been lit from behind the irises. Those same beautiful eyes looked up at me, some unknown emotion swimming in their depths.

I blushed when I realized I'd been staring at him for a long time and looked away. I cleared my throat, still completely red in the face, and moved to get off of him. Untangling our legs, I sat up on the edge of the bed and started nervously fiddling with my hair. He sat up as well, looking as if his usual hard expression had been forced onto his face, and sat cross legged across from me.

"I'm sorry about that, I couldn't very well let them catch you though could I?" I rambled, trying to find a firm subject to grasp. I fidgeted with the edge of my nightgown, not caring that it was inappropriate anymore. I felt him touch my cheek and I winced when he caught the bruise, which was sure to have turned an ugly blue and purple by now.

"How did this happen?" He asked, referring to the mark. I quickly placed a hand over it, embarrassed. Was it just me or did his deep voice sound even better than it had before?

"Oh it's nothing. My aunt didn't like that I'd missed church this morning." I looked away, ashamed.

"Was it because of my appearance in the alley?" He asked, and I could hear the beginnings of regret in his usually unwavering tone. I was beginning to get the feeling that he was the kind of person that cared immensely about innocent peoples's well being when it came to matters that involved himself. He didn't want to drag others into his conflicts. Yet another admirable quality to add to the many I had witnessed one to acknowledge.

"No, no, of course not!" I rushed to reassure him. "I would have found a way to skip any way. It was luck that you came around and gave me a reason. Plus it's really that lout James's fault. I hate him, but he just doesn't want to take no for an answer." My tone got a little seething at the end. I really hated that man.

"Why do you continue to help me? What have I done to deserve it?" He demanded. I looked up in surprise. It had never really occurred to me why I did the things I did. Now that I thought about it, it would seem strange that I would help someone I barely knew, someone who'd almost killed me the first time we'd met, and the second. It was strange, yes, but it wasn't wrong. I felt a connection to Connor. I knew I could trust him from the very moment I had first seen his eyes that night in the forest. I yearned for that trust to be returned. For a moment, I struggled to find the right words.

"I fight, just like you. Always fighting. For the people I love, for the city I love, if something better will come of it. You need not ask for my help in order to receive it. I already know that you deserve it and more." I told him with a small smile, confident of my answer, strange as it was. His eyes narrowed and his head cocked to the side, as if not understanding why I would come to such a conclusion. I couldn't understand it either, but for some reason, I was sure he was a person worthy of assistance and loyalty.

I laughed at the familiar expression on his face. "I get that look a lot."

He shook his head and stood up, pulling his hood back over his head. I couldn't stop the twinge of regret I felt at the realization of him leaving. I'd just got him talking! I'd even got him to ask some questions...

"I must leave now, there is something I must attend to." He made his way to the window and I sighed, resigning myself to being alone once again. I felt a strange hollowness at the empty space beside me, the air colder now that the warmth of his presence was gone.

"Good bye then, and don't impale yourself on one of your many weapons." I teased and eyed said weapons, feeling the need to lighten the mood. He grunted in affirmation. He made his way to the window and opened it.

"Be safe," I whispered as he leapt into the night. I sighed as got up to close the window. I looked out to see if I could catch a glimpse of him leaving but saw none, only the empty roof tops and the remnants of the day's laundry still billowing in the breeze. I didn't really understand why my heart wrenched at the sight of him leaving. It felt like it might be crushed under a great pressure.

I put a hand to my chest, trying to give some support to my heart and sighed. I suppose there was no denying anymore that I was attracted to the man I'd barely known. How strange it was, to have my heart race and my face flush when he was near, just like a normal girls's would. The havoc he was reeking on my mind and heart was unfamiliar and...exhilarating. I found myself wishing to feel it again, to see him again.

I sighed once more as I closed the window and blew out the candle, anticipating what madness tomorrow would bring.

**_Oh how I love putting Connor and our heroine in awkward situations. Though you wouldn't believe how hard it is to write for Connor. Predicting what he might say and do in these kinds of instances, and then filtering it through Neela's point of view, is absolutely maddening. I don't think I've ever tried so hard to keep a specific person in-character and I still don't think I'm doing him justice. If you all are wondering, Connor will indeed be showing his badassness in the chapters to come, so read on and make sure to give me feedback on what you do and don't like, as well as plot suggestions. I am open to concept changes. :)_**


	4. Escape

_**Yeah so, I decided to post this little "end of the world" chapter, just in case we all die today. Which we probably won't. Anyway, I noticed that some of you guys were starting to like James. Don't. He's a bad guy. And if anything will convince you of that it's this chapter. If I owned AC3, I would have given Connor a girlfriend. That guy needs some lovin.**_

__Chapter 4: Escape

The next morning, as I was walking through the market gathering wax and cotton wick for my annual candle making, I heard tell of a bunch of natives sneaking into Boston last night and dumping a ship load of tea into the harbor. Some were calling it "the Boston Tea Party". This made me laugh for whatever reason. Though I knew from what Connor said last night that it wasn't really natives aboard those ships, but I suppose he would count as one.

It was a cold day, and I could feel a heavy autumn storm on the horizon. The sailors at the harbor could feel it too and were already tying up their ships and cargo to hold out against the weather. It was not quiet with the gossipers today either. Old women with nothing better to do than tell rumors and share knowledge during quilting bees or while shopping at the market.

It was a great way to pick up information, if you knew the right people to talk to. And if there ever was a woman who could talk, it was the bar maid at the Green Tavern, one of the unsuspecting victims of James' tyranny against womankind. That woman's mouth was about as large as her breasts, and that's saying a lot. I also happened to talk to her when I picked up some ale for father's dinner that night.

She told me that there was unrest, hearsay of war and treason in the crowds. It had always been a threat, but not like now. With such an outright act of rebellion as last night, people were preparing for the worst. I was told it would be best to lay low for awhile, till things calmed down. Not that I would, mind you, I suspected that the last thing this situation would do is cease, but all my secret doings would have to be kept more secret.

I also visited Finley and his wife Tabitha. They'd just had a brand new baby girl named Angela, and I was named the Godmother. I couldn't have been happier for them. You could practically see the adoration glinting in Finley's eyes when he looked at his two month old daughter. He had matured so much in the last year, something I would have to get used to. There would be no more random acts of rebellion like misplacing (destroying) British supplies or setting a family of rats into the British storehouses. He had a family to be with now, so I would have to work alone. He would be a good father, I was sure.

I dropped by to give baby Angela the wool blanket I had just finished knitting for her, and to say hi to the couple. Tabitha had asked me to teach her my mother's lullaby so she could sing it to her child, because she apparently could not sleep through the night just yet. She was such a beautiful baby, with her father's ginger-blonde hair and her mother's lovely gray eyes. I could already see myself spoiling her.

Though it was lonely without Finley at my side every day, I was happy that he finally had a family that cared for him. It was all he'd ever wanted.

But, as I was walking home, people started acting strange. When I would walk by, they would suddenly turn away, only to continue whispering when I left. Nobody would make eye contact with me when I greeted them. It made me feel like I needed to walk a bit faster. I tried to brush it off as best I could, but something was telling me that I should not take it in ignorance.

When I'd finally reached my house, I set my groceries on the table and started to make dinner, resolving to forget the whole affair. It had just started to rain when my father came bursting through the door, panting like he had just run clear across town. He looked more serious than I'd ever seen him in my entire life.

"What's wrong fath-?" I began but he cut me off, running to me and grabbing my shoulders. His grip was strong and his eyes were intense.

"Neela! Ye have to get out of here! Some Redcoats are on the way, and they're looking for ye! You have to hurry up and leave, before they come here to find ye!" He began hurrying me up the stairs to my room.

"Father, what do you mean? What's going on?!" I was starting to panic. I wasn't used to this hurried and frantic father. He was usually my pillar of stability, I didn't know what to do when he was all shaky like this. It made me sure that something horrible had happened. He pried open the floorboard I kept my knife in and threw the dagger at me. I caught it expertly and looked at him in shock. "How did you know...?"

"Did ye think me a fool Neela? That I wouldn't know about you and yer friend's little trips into the forest? Or everything else for that matter. I'm yer father and I'm smart like that." He tossed me my hunter's clothes and motioned for me to put them on, "I'm actually proud that you've learned so much. All I ask is that ye use what you've learned and get away from here. Far away. It doesn't matter where ye go, just so long as yer safe." He handed me my pack and kissed my forehead.

"But father I don't..." I was cut off by a loud banging at the front door downstairs. My father looked frantically at the open doorway of my room, his breathing growing heavy with panic.

"Neela Briar, you are under arrest for harboring a criminal and conspiring against the King! Open the door!" Shouted a voice that sounded suspiciously like James. Realization hit me like a ton of bricks. Someone had seen Connor hide in my room last night. Shit.

"Go now, Neela! I can't lose another woman in my life. Take the window, the roofs, the alleys. Just don't get caught." I nodded and gave him one last hug before hopping out of my window onto the roof. I was reluctant to leave my father to deal with the mess I had created, but before I could even consider looking back, he had shut and locked the window.

The sound gave sudden weight to my situation, how deeply in trouble I was. If they caught me, I could go to jail. I could be hanged. I heard the wooden door downstairs splinter as someone forced it open and knew I had to hurry.

It was pouring rain now and already I could feel myself getting soaked. I ran across the slick roof tops, headed for the tree branch that overhung the wall, the same one I had used the night I'd first met Connor. I ducked in panic when a sudden bolt of lightning lit up the darkened sky, thinking it was a gun firing. When I reached the butchers shop I waited only a few moments to make sure no one was coming before I made the leap. I didn't drop to the ground this time, instead choosing a path through the trees.

I stopped when I realized I didn't know where I was going. I couldn't go to the clearing, that was too close and they'd find me, and the next town over was sure to have guards posted at every entrance.

An idea struck me. I could head to Connor's homestead. Surely he could help me! Though I felt bad for bringing troubles on him, I knew I had no other choice. I changed my course and headed north. In the far distance I could just make out the sound of horse hooves through the sound of the rain. Then I heard shouting. I quickened my pace, leaping through the trees with the type of agility that only came from practice.

I could feel the fear start to sink in, the paranoia. I could hear the hoof beats getting louder, likening every burst of thunder to the sound of a musket shot. In every shadow I was sure I could see figures crouched and ready to pounce the moment I stopped moving. It was getting to me as I looked frantically around for the source of the threat.

Then a bolt of lightning hit right over head, accompanied by an explosion of thunder immediately afterwards. I was so scared that I lost my grip on the trees and went plummeting to the ground.

My head cracked painfully on the hard forest floor and I almost passed out. For who knows how long I just laid there, trying to force my vision to stop spinning so I could get up. But it was no use. I couldn't force my heavy limbs to move. The world tilted at odd angles and I could vaguely feel the water and mud seeping into the back of my clothes, caking in my loose curly hair.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" James' voice chuckled evilly from above me. My eyes snapped open, though I wasn't exactly sure when they'd closed, and focused on him. He and a group of seven or eight guards were standing over me, with the most cruel looking smirks on their faces. I squeaked and tried to move but was quickly grabbed by the biceps by two men. They slammed me into the nearest tree, knocking the breath out of me. I dropped my head and coughed, trying to get air back into my lungs. Someone grabbed my chin, hard enough to leave bruises, and jerked my head up. I glared into the cold blue eyes in front of me through the mess of my wet and muddy hair.

"You're wanted for harboring a criminal and treason against the Crown, Neela Briar. I'm curious to know, was it that assassin that escaped last night? The same one you supposedly saw run past you in the street yesterday morning?" James asked with a sneer. I stayed silent and glared at him, not familiar with the term "assassin" but sure he was talking about Connor. His smirk faltered when I didn't answer and he slapped me across the face, the edge of his silver ring catching on my skin and leaving a large cut on my cheek dripping blood. Still I stayed silent.

"Tell me Neela, a witness saw him entering your room in the night. I bet you had all _sorts_ of fun, didn't you?" The guards around him chuckled. I didn't make a sound, instead just glared. I would not give him the satisfaction of seeing just how scared I was. He pulled a knife from his belt and pressed the sharp edge into my already injured cheek, making the cut deeper, and my eye twitched in pain.

"You know, I can get you out of this. All the charges removed. I can do that for you. Just say you'll be mine, and you'll walk into town a free woman." He sneered and put his hand on my waist. I had a sneaking suspicion that he'd orchestrated this arrest, had chalked it up to more than it was for this purpose, to finally get me to give into him. How pathetic, that he had resorted to using his military station as a means to accomplish what he could not himself. I hawked up a loogy in the most unladylike manner I could and spit it in his eye.

"_Never!_" I hissed. He wiped the spit away from his face slowly and glared his hateful blue eyes at me. He then smiled in a way that sent frightened shivers down my spine, one that made him seem truly evil, and pressed his knife, already dripping in the blood from my cheek, to my collar bone. I was sure I spotted a hint of madness sparking in the icy blue orbs that seemed to be eating away at my soul. The soldiers's grips tightened painfully on my arms.

"Well then, I'd better have my way with you before they send you off to the gallows. I've waited long enough." He jerked his hand downwards, tearing my shirt down the middle and exposing me for all their leering eyes to see. I heard wolf whistles all around and my eyes widened when I realized just what he intended. I tried to wrench my arms out of the soldiers' holds but they held tight as they laughed viciously.

"No! Stop! Get away from me!" I screamed at the top of my lungs as James ran his hand over my exposed breasts and down over my stomach. James just laughed along with the rest of the soldiers. I kicked and struggled, thrashing violently in fear, but this only seemed to amuse the lot more.

"Stop! Please stop!" I screeched in terror, trying to wiggle away as his hands got lower, to the rim of my trousers. He stepped closer so he was pressed flush against me, his hips grinding into mine, pinning me to the tree and stopping my ineffective kicking. Tears streamed down my face, mixing with the rain, as pure fear coursed through me. I closed my eyes as his fingers slipped under the edge of my pants and screamed at the top of my lungs the only thing that came to mind.

"CONNOR!" I screeched, startling James with the unfamiliar name.

A loud war cry rang through the air and suddenly, the hands were gone from my arms and my hips. I slumped to the ground, completely drained from the shock and relief. I watched, as if through another person's eyes as Connor killed the soldiers one after the other. It was almost unreal, how quick and feral he looked lit by the frequent flashes of lightning.

The first to fall was the man on my right, who lay in front of me with eyes wide and a large whole in his chest from a tomahawk. The second was the man on my left, impaled through the stomach by his own musket. The next went down with a hidden blade through his eye. Blood sprayed until it was a dark river on the ground and pained screams filled the air accompanied by the roaring thunder.

Many of the men tried to defend themselves against the slaughter, but most never even got to draw their weapons, they were dead before they could. But through all the bloodshed, I could not find it in myself to fear Connor, or feel pity for the men he was murdering before my eyes. I could not feel anything. I just sat there with wide eyes and mouth agape as I witnessed the graceful brutality of my savior.

With deadly speed they fell to the ground until only James remained, frozen in shock and clutching his injured shoulder. Connor pointed his blood stained tomahawk at his face, mere inches away from his nose. He didn't look even a bit out of breath after that massacre. He was steady as a mountain, his white robes untouched by the blood of his victims and his blade glinting menacingly in the flashes of lightning. He was unstoppable, a force of nature itself.

"Go. Tell them that the girl is dead. Speak nothing of what has happened here." He snarled, the sound almost bestial in its utterance. James nodded shakily and, without hesitation and still looking to be in shock, jumped on his horse's back and rode away in the direction of town, eager to escape the lethal hooded man.

Connor replaced his tomahawk in his belt and walked slowly over to me. I watched him blankly, not really comprehending what just happened, as he crouched down on one knee in front of my crumpled and pitiful form.

"Neela, are you alright?" He asked softly, as if I would break if he were not careful. It was a total contrast to the scene I had just witnessed.

The sound of my name on his lips snapped me out of my shock and my emotions came flooding back into me. All of the panic and sadness and fear I had just experienced came bursting out in the form of tears. I threw my arms around him, not caring if it was okay to do so or not, and sobbed into his broad chest. It was amazing how quickly I disregarded the scattered bodies around me, how fast I forgot how another man's blood stained my clothes. And remarkably, I was nothing but grateful that their murderer was here for me to hold onto. His warmth was so comforting.

He just sat there for a moment, not knowing what to do with the crying girl hanging from him, before hesitantly wrapping his arms around me. I cried in terror and relief for a long time, as loudly as the day my mother died, before finally there were no more tears left. I just hiccuped and sniffled like a child before finally pulling away, hunching my back insecurely and reaching for whatever was left of my shirt to cover myself. I was already missing the warmth in his embrace.

"Thank you for saving me." I whispered in a broken voice. My throat was raw from all that wailing and it hurt to speak. I curled up on myself, trying to preserve the little warmth I had left and trying to cover myself properly at the same time.

"Why were they pursuing you?" He asked quietly, but hard enough for me to know he needed an answer. I looked away, ashamed at my vulnerability.

"Supposed conspiracy against the Crown." I answered, though it was only partly true. I shouldn't let him know that it was because I hid him in my room. He would think that he was to blame.

"Conspiracy?" He asked skeptically. I nodded.

"It's not true, I've never conspired against anything unless it was in my own head, unless you count setting rats on British storehouses or vandalizing British supplies. Nothing that warrants my execution. But now I'm a wanted criminal. I can't go back." I told him, defeated. He looked at me for a long time before sighing. He wrapped me up mummy style in my green cloak and picked me up like I weighed nothing.

"Hey, what are you doing!" I shouted, my face going red despite myself, trying to wriggle my way out of the folds of the cloak and failing. I was wrapped too tightly. He whistled through his teeth and a horse appeared out of nowhere.

"I'm taking you back to my homestead," he said simply, without room for argument. I was glad to hear this, but also confused.

"Why?" I asked. Why would he just take me in for no reason?

"The offer I made yesterday still stands. You are welcome in my home as long as you need it," he hopped onto the horse carrying me with little to no effort and placed me on his lap. I blushed but was grateful for the warmth as I was completely soaked down to the bone and shivering, "and if I'm not mistaken, you have nowhere to go."

My body relaxed as my heavy eyelids began to close. I hadn't realized how tired the ordeal had left me and I was fast falling into sleep. I nodded to give my consent as he took off. The galloping of the horse rocking me back and forth was like a lullaby, bringing me farther into unconsciousness. I snuggled into the warmth of Connor's chest, feeling utterly safe, and closed my eyes, listening to the sound of his heart beat. It wasn't long before the steady rhythm lulled me into the world of dreams.

**_Alright, first I'd like to say how much I HATED writing that scene with James. I just hated it. But it was necessary for story progression so it had to be done. Secondly, Connor is so freaking badass it's not even funny. I had lots of fun with the gore and fighting (does that make me weird?). And thirdly, I'd like to tell you all that it has been confirmed, not just by me, that Connor is a virgin. I tried to incorporate that into his personality and him not knowing how to feel and what to say around Neela. Just thought I'd put that out there. Thank you all for the wonderful reviews, I was never expecting to get such a positive reaction, and keep them coming. I like constructive criticism._**


	5. The Manor

_**Hello my dear and wonderful readers! I just realized I have over 40 reviews already. For 4 chapters. This is unheard of for me. I wasn't expecting my story to be so well received. Every time I see a new comment, it makes me so happy... Anyways, sorry I haven't updated in so long. First there was the holidays and then I had to get my wisdom teeth out. I tried writing a chapter while loopy on Percocet. At the time I thought it was really good. How wrong I was. I looked at it later and was like, "when did this story become smut?" and "since when was Connor a sensitive and outspoken person?". Yeah, completely unusable. But it was damn funny and unusable. AC3 does not belong to me^_^**_

The Manor

There was warmth as I arose from my heavy sleep. It felt as if I hadn't been warm in ages. I dug my head into my soft pillow, wishing to return to the comfort of my dreams. The sheets smelled of leather and pine wood, something I was unused to. My room usually carried the scent of the lavender potpourri I had on my bedside table and in bags under my mattress. Had I changed my sheets recently? I couldn't remember.

I rolled to the left, expecting to feel the comfort of the wall my bed was placed against as I usually did in the mornings, to curl up against it and perhaps steal a few more minutes of sleep, but it was not there. Perhaps I had been sleeping at the edge of my bed? I felt around for the wall, but found none, only more bed. My bed was certainly not that large.

I shot up, squeaking in the realization that I was not in my bedroom at all. I was in what seemed to be a large old room, with no furniture save for a small vanity and mirror in the corner, and the king sized bed I was now sleeping in. There was also a small fire place on the wall nearest to me that looked like it hadn't been lit in years. It was a nice enough room, and looked like it had been recently cleaned, though for the life of me, I couldn't remember how I'd gotten there.

My head and cheek throbbed painfully, the aching obviously having impaired my memory as I slept. I ran my hands through the soft furs that lay across the bedding, most likely that of a bear judging from its color and texture.

Furs were a luxury, items that were often traded at a high price, especially the pelts of a bear, which many don't have the courage to take on. Whoever owned this house must either have a decent amount of money at their disposal, or was a very good shot.

I prodded my pounding brain for more information on my whereabouts, but all I could remember was running through the forest. I was being chased by soldiers, when a sudden bolt of lightening had startled me out of a tree. After that it became blurred. There was sick laughter, and fear. James's voice in the darkness...

Was that it then? Had I been captured by that bastard? Had I been...spoiled? Tears built in my eyes at the thought. I clutched the furs, no doubt bought at the highest bidder, to my chest, thinking in horror that my purity had been sullied by that hell-spawned Red Devil. How well the title suited him. I tried my hardest to choke back my sobs but didn't manage it completely.

Loud creaking footsteps resounded outside my door, and muffled voices whispered incomprehensibly. I panicked at the sound, thinking it was James come to see if his prize had awoken yet. I hopped out of the bed and ran to the fireplace, claiming the ash shovel that hung on a rack beside it as my weapon. I would not be caught a second time.

I placed myself by the door, pressing myself against the wall and drawing my makeshift club over my left shoulder, ready to use it on the first person that walked through that door. The voices grew louder and I squeezed my eyes closed, for fear of what I might see.

I heard the handle creak as it was turned and the hinges squeak open. With a loud girlish squeal, I swung the ash shovel horizontally, the way one would the club in stick-ball, at the man I had assumed meant me harm. But instead of a shout of pain from the man I hated, I was met with a loud grunt in a voice much too deep for James as I made contact. It took me a moment too long to realize I had the wrong target.

"Connor?!" I exclaimed as I took in his hunched form, clutching his stomach. His hood was not in it's usual place over his face, so I had full view of his scrunched up features. I was horrified at what I'd just done. My missing memory fragments from last night came flooding back into place. He had saved me, murdered a large group of guards and then taken me to the safety of his homestead. And I'd just attacked him with a shovel. Oh lord.

I ran over to help him stand back up, "Oh my god are you okay? I am so sorry, I-I thought you were James! I was so sure he'd caught me and..." I was interrupted by loud rasping laughs coming from the door. I looked over to find an old dark skinned man with a brown plantation hat and well tailored red and white clothes, holding a black wooden cane and laughing in the door way. He pointed at me with his cane as he limped forward. I took a step back, not entirely trusting the stranger.

"I like this one. First girl you bring home and she already knows how to put you in your place!" He laughed again as he patted Connor on the back. I blushed at the old man's comment as Connor straightened up and snatched the shovel away from me, as if he was afraid I'd hit him with it again. I pouted at the loss of my weapon. "Oh, don't worry young lady, the shovel will be placed back on the rack should you ever need another impromptu weapon again. Though I highly doubt you'll need it, with such a fine blade at your side. It is very unique, I've never seen its equal." He held out my dagger and placed it in my hands. I smiled at the complement and looked fondly down at my knife. Such powerful memories were imbedded in its metallic luster, both good and bad. I felt safe with it in my hands, as if nothing could touch me, like I could take on an army.

"I thought so too, that's why I wield it." I grasped the double bladed weapon tightly around the hilt and stroked the shiny metal, my reflection gleaming up at me like a mirror. The cold metal was comforting, and I lightly touched my index finger to the point of its longest blade, pricking it just enough to draw a single bead of blood. Still sharp as ever.

"Sounds like an interesting story, care to share it with me over a cup of tea? There is a box I have been saving for an occasion such as this." He placed both hands over the cane as he waited for the answer. His eyes were wizened and respectable, so dark I could barely make out the pupils. Yet in them I could sense an awareness and sharpness that most men at his age had already lost. Still, he seemed a man that could be trusted. I looked to the side at Connor, who was apparently trying to communicate something to the old man without speaking, but was being ignored. Connor seemed to trust this man so why shouldn't I?

I nodded hesitantly. It had been too long since I'd had tea, what with the boycott and all, and if it wasn't taxed I'd love to have some. Plus, tea sounded like the best cure for my wired nerves. I'd been so jumpy for a while, with good reason, and it'd be nice to settle down over a warm drink. The old man nodded and turned to the door.

"I'd suggest you change out of those clothes, though, before you cause that poor boy any more discomfort." He said offhandedly as he made his way towards the door. I looked down to see that I was miraculously clean and wearing a generic white nightgown. I wondered briefly where it came from before brushing it off. I would find out soon enough, though I dearly hoped there was a woman here who had washed the mud away and dressed me. That would be awkward.

I looked over to see that Connor was indeed looking away. Was he truly so unpracticed with women? I would have thought that with such a handsome face as his he would have had plenty of women flocking to him. Though now that I thought about it, I had never even seen him speaking with another woman, let alone courting one. It was strange to think that Connor would be a novice at anything. Perhaps I had found a weak spot.

I giggled and smiled at that. I hadn't been awake more than a few minutes and already I had discovered something new about my mysterious savior. Granted I wasn't any kind of expert on dating myself, but for some reason, Connor exuded a confidence that advertised a proficiency in everything. Silly as it was, I expected him to be good at anything he did.

I played with the hem of my night gown. Connor had already seen me in my night wear before, so surely it wouldn't cause him too much discomfort? To my eyes, he seemed almost painfully uninterested in me, what with that persistent mask he always wears. For all I knew, he could find me repulsive. After all, he was one of the few people I did not brandish my "lady" persona at. Any other man would have been completely turned off at the idea of a woman with anything but a complacent and gentle personality, something I most certainly did not have. I sighed. I was totally psyching myself out.

I put on a smile. It didn't really matter to me that Connor saw me now. After all, why would it bother him to see something he's already seen before?

"That's alright. Connor's already seen me in my nightgown." I stated matter-of-factly. Connor looked up sharply and the old man raised one eye brow.

"Has he now?" The old man inquired with a slight smile in his voice. Me being the oblivious person I was, didn't notice the implication his voice held.

"Sure. It was when he-" My mouth was suddenly muffled by a very large hand. When had Connor gotten over to me? I tried to pry his hand off my face but it didn't work, he was as strong as an ox, it seemed, and I had no chance against him.

"It is nothing master." He said in a slightly hurried but hard voice. He was trying to cover himself. Had he not told the man what had happened? That seemed strange considering how close the two seemed to be. But it also seemed that the older man's manner was one of ridicule, so I could understand why Connor may have wanted to keep my having to help him a secret. The dark skinned man just nodded with a small chuckle and headed for the door.

"Well, you'll find some clothes in that vanity over there, not your size but they'll do. They're some of Connor's old ones. You can wear them until we find you something else. Then we can move you out of Connor's room and into the spare down the hall. My name is Achilles by the way." And with that he left the room.

I blushed at the idea that I had been sleeping in Connor's bed until a moment ago. This did seem the type of room he would have, what with the furs and the austere decor. I remembered the strong scent of the sheets and blushed brighter. The room even smelled of him. I shook my head, trying to remove the embarrassment from my face.

Connor removed his hand from my mouth and I looked up at his gargantuan form. Well, maybe gargantuan was a bit exaggerated but it seemed that way to my measly stature. I only came up to his bicep.

As his hood was down, I could actually see his face. It was just as handsome as before, maybe even more so in the daylight. I could see all of the wear it had taken over the years, though he couldn't have been much older than my 16 years. But there was still that light, that determination in his eyes, burning just behind the entrancing amber color. And right now as he looked down at me, they were swimming with some kind of emotion I couldn't place.

He coughed suddenly and looked away. His face reconfigured into its usual stone facade.

"I'll leave you to change then." He said, pulling me from my day dreams. I nodded and he held out a familiar brown bag.

"My pack!" I exclaimed happily. I'd thought I'd lost it in the forest last night. I snatched it from his hands and set it on the ground, pulling out all the items. To my surprise, I found all of my apothecary tools and some of the tinctures I'd made previously, as well as the pants and animal hide boots I'd been wearing the night I'd escaped. I pulled out the slightly dirty pants, a bit blood stained but not unwearable, and smiled at Connor, who had just started to leave the room. I scrambled for a way to show my gratitude. His back was turned and walking out the door so I just decided to go for it. I jumped up and gave him a quick hug from behind. My arms barely wrapped around his broad chest. He stopped, surprised at the sudden embrace.

"Thank you Connor!" I exclaimed as I let the bewildered man go. He nodded, still a little shocked, and left the room. I quickly pulled on the pants and boots, resolving to clean them later, and went over to the vanity. I opened the top drawer and gaped.

I didn't know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn't an animal skin shirt, though I supposed I shouldn't have been surprised, seeing as Connor was a Native. I smiled at the worn clothing, fingering the exquisite beading and fringe that only a Native could produce. The material was softer than I'd expected, and sturdily put together. I wondered briefly how they managed such fine work.

From all the stories I'd heard, no doubt biased and prejudiced, the natives were savage beasts. No more human than dogs. The men in town had always told of horrible things that Natives supposedly did; killing innocent men, burning down forts, stealing from supply caravans, kidnapping women and forcing them to be their wives, and more. But of course that wasn't true. I had Connor as living proof of that. If anyone was savage it was those filthy Redcoats. Though I had my suspicions that Connor was not all Native, it still did not damage my good opinion of them. I'd seen nothing to support those false claims of savagery yet. In fact, I found the Natives rather fascinating.

I slipped on the soft material, surprised though I shouldn't have been at how big they were. Apparently Connor had been tall as a teenager as well, though not as bulky as he is now. The large shirt was more like a dress on me, reaching all the way down to my knees. The scent that I specifically distinguished as Connor, one of pine just after it rains and leather, still clung to the fabric. I took the faded red sash that came along with it and tied it around my middle, hoping that I fastened it right. It looked a little sloppy but it would have to do.

Next I applied some salve to the cut on my cheek. I knew it would scar but the salve would help it fade and keep infection from getting to it. I was grateful that my apothecary supplies had been brought with me, they would be useful later. If I needed to, I could start a business, trading my remedies for money or other necessities. I couldn't very well live for free off of Connor's kindness.

Lastly I tied my long curly blonde hair into a loose braid over my shoulder. I looked at my face in the mirror over the vanity, ignoring the knew cut lining my cheekbone. Many people have complimented me on how handsome I was but I could never see it. I had a pale heart shaped face, with full lips, a small nose and large yellow green eyes, similar to those you would find on a cat. A great number of people, including my father, said I looked like my mother, though I'd always thought her to be much prettier than myself. I could never find the beauty others saw when they looked at my face, all I saw was the lie I had fabricated to please them. I saw someone else.

But now, as I saw myself dressed in animal skins with braided hair, no make up, and my wild eyes filled with a life I hadn't seen at home in many years, I truly felt I saw myself instead of my image. I smiled. It was a welcome sight.

I grabbed my dagger and ran out the door of Connor's bedroom, eager for the first time in a long time to start the day. For some reason, I felt energized, hyper even. I realized with a start that I was happy. Odd that I should suddenly feel it with such random clarity.

I ran down the hall, following the sound of conversing voices. I stopped at the top of the staircase, checking to make sure everything on my person was where it was supposed to be before flying down the creaky old steps.

This house, while large, was rather worse for wear. Its blue walls were faded and lined with cracks, what would have been an impressive staircase tarnished and scratched. But even though it was not in the best condition, it still retained the distinct feeling of home. I could see myself calling it that, though I shouldn't allow myself to be so presumptuous. They could very well kick me out tomorrow.

I gathered all of the many questions I had in my head before picking out the most important. I skidded into what appeared to be the living room, though it looked rather decrepit, with white sheets draped across every surface. How wonderful a place this would be had it been in better repair.

Achilles sat in a lone wooden chair by the fire place, conversing with Connor, who was leaning against the window pane across from him. They looked to be having a heated argument, as both men looked rather disgruntled. I felt a bit awkward intruding.

I made a move to step back but the floor creaked under my weight, alerting the two to my presence. Achilles' expression changed immediately, though I could still see some residual tension left in his brow.

"Ah, young lady, so glad you could join us. Please sit, we have much to discuss." Achilles greeted me, gesturing with his hand to one of the ragged couches. I sat down with a shy smile. He offered me a cup of tea in beautiful blue and white china, rattling it a bit as he reached out to give it to me.

"Please, call me Neela." I said, accepting the porcelain cup and inhaling the delicious aroma wafting from it. Peppermint.

"Neela, then, how do you know Connor?" He asked. I smiled. It was a fond memory for me, meeting Connor. Maybe not the most pleasant, what with him threatening to kill me, but something great had come out of it. The fact that I even knew him was something I considered a privilege.

"Well it's quite a long story, actually. The first time I met him was seven months ago, in late spring. I was out in the woods, gathering herbs for medicine..." (One long story later)

"That is quite the remarkable tale. I have to say Connor, you should really thank this girl. She's saved you from either death or capture three times in less than a single year. You must need more training." Achilles belittled Connor. I could sense he was trying to get a rise out of him and it was working. Connor looked about ready to argue. But it would only damage his dignity further if he tried to rebuke the old man, so I jumped in before he could.

"It's not like that. Really, he could have done it without me, I know he could have. I just felt that he could use help, so I gave it to him. It seemed like the right thing to do. He didn't ask for it. In fact, I kind of forced my help on him. I didn't, and still don't, expect any thanks in return for my own stubbornness. I'm just happy that Connor was there to save me before James could..." I abruptly cut off and took a deep, shaky breath, not fully having recovered from that terrifying experience, "Anyways, that is enough. If anyone should be grateful it's me."

I set down my now empty cup, not willing to look at whatever faces they were giving me for fear that I would see pity in them, my despised emotion. I've hated pity ever since my mother died, and I'd suffocated in those sympathetic looks everyone gave me whenever I walked by. I wanted to avoid those looks, whatever the cost.

Beside, I had more important things to discuss, and I didn't want to dwell on the past night's experiences for too long. Thinking about it made the fear come back, made the whole dreadful encounter seem more real than I cared to admit. So instead, I pulled out the mental list of questions I had for them. I had been fumbling around in the dark for too long. It was time I got answers.

"Before I go any further, there is something I have to know." I looked up, and straight into Connor's intense, questioning golden brown eyes. I stared into them, trying to decipher the answers for myself out of their smoldering depths. Trying to convey how serious I was about hearing the truth.

"What is an Assassin?"

**_Yeah, this is a really slow chapter, but unfortunately necessary. Two things Connor absolutely must learn, 1: do not scare Neela when she has just woken up after a sustaining a head injury, 2: do not give Neela a shovel. Since the plot was lacking in this chapter, I thought I might as well throw in some humor. There is also something I have to ask you all about that I have been seeing lately in other fanfic reviews. What is a Mary Sue? It doesn't sound like a good thing so I want to make sure my characters don't fall into that category. Thank you all for the outstanding responses and keep up the reviewing!_**


	6. The Test

_**Hello lovelies. Finally got another chapter up, though this one is less plot oriented and more focused on character backgrounds. This marks a pivotal change in Connor and Neela's relationship, so I couldn't leave it out if I wanted to. So I added some fluffiness and action to get you guys through it. I mean, come on, what would my story be if there were no awkward situations? Boring, that's what. But unfortunately, both of our main characters are hopelessly lost when it comes to matters of love, so it's okay to give a nudge every once in a while. It's not my fault if they don't understand my nudges. I guess eventually i'll have to shove them instead, but until then, enjoy the innocence. I do not own AC3, Connor would have had a happier ending if I did.**_

The Test

After a very long conversation that took, approximately two hours to complete, one that involved Templars and Assassins and "the Ones Who Came Before", my brain was just about ready to spontaneously combust. Too much information, too much shock, too little time to properly absorb it all.

"So, if I may clarify for a moment, you," I pointed at Achilles, "used to be an Assassin for this 'brotherhood' and trained him," I pointed at Connor, "to slink around the shadows killing evil people like his father with a multitude of weapons so said evil people can't take over the world." I summarized, still a bit mystified.

"That sounds about right." Achilles affirmed, completely serious. I sat back heavily in my chair, trying to take it in. The man I had grown so fond of had killed so many? If that was so, then why didn't I feel scared? As I looked at him now, I felt my heart start to race from everything but fear. I couldn't even dredge up a sense of wrongness from it.

There _wasn't_ anything wrong with it. As far as I was concerned, his views aligned with mine. What he fought for was honorable, something I myself have been fighting for for a while now, only not as openly. So, why not join him? There was nothing holding me back now that I had been run out of my own town, now that I was already a criminal.

I smiled wide, thoroughly shocking both men. They apparently had been expecting a very _different_ reaction to their story, running for my life perhaps. But I had already emerged myself too deeply into their cause, had spent too much time around the clearly lethal hooded man to give into cowardice. I was far too intrigued by my savior and his story to bow out now.

"I'd like to help." I proclaimed, still grinning. Of course, I didn't know then what my words truly implied, but at that moment in time I was committed. Their story had moved me. Connor had moved me. I found myself willing to give up whatever semblance of life I had left for his cause.

"Do you know what it is you are asking for, girl? What it could mean for you?" Achilles asked skeptically. I turned a determined eye on him, already having made up my mind. Nothing could dissuade me once I had decided my loyalties. Last night had only solidified what was already there.

"No, I do not. But I am willing to find out. I know the city, the people. Gathering information should not be a problem for me. I can also handle myself in a fight, provided I have access to my weapon. And I have knowledge of medicinal herbs that can help Mr. Reckless here if he gets injured." I jerked my head towards Connor, who gave me a stern look that clearly said "I won't get hurt".

"And yes, you can get hurt. Remember the first time I met you? If I hadn't helped you, your wound might have become infected and you could have died from it. So don't try telling me that I wouldn't be of help to you." I answered his unspoken thoughts. He looked away with that stone look on his face, though somehow managing to remind me of a sulking child. Ever the stoic persona. I would break through that eventually.

"You make an excellent point, but I'm afraid I cannot send you into battle as you are now..."

"Please teach me then Achilles! I am a fast learner, I promise!" I said, a bit too enthusiastically. Achilles held up one calloused hand and I sat back. He was the kind of person that demanded respect and attention without ever having to raise his voice above a whisper. He looked me over and sighed.

"I will not train you." He said with finality.

"But..." I began to protest.

"Let me finish. I will not train you," he told me solemnly, then smiled deviously in that way that only old men can, the way that makes you think they're up to something, "but he will." He jerked his head toward Connor, whose head snapped up.

"He will?" I asked, delighted.

"I will?" Connor asked more incredulously, dropping his mask for a split second in his surprise. Achilles nodded.

"Yes, think of it as the last training I have for you. I like this girl. I see potential in her. You will train her as your apprentice, it is up to you whether she will be an asset or a burden. You start today. Good luck." He finished, before standing up and leaving. Connor and I just kind of sat there for a while, shocked. There was a bubbling feeling in my chest, and I could barely even name it before I let it out in the form of an overjoyed whoop.

Connor was startled by my action, and gave me a look like I was mad, but I ignored it. I jumped out of my seat and gave Connor a big grin, excited to start training. _With him_, my subconscious murmured. Oh lord, I was in trouble. I shook my head to rid myself of that train of thought.

"So _master_, shall we get started?" I beat my eyelashes at him in an obvious and humorous attempt to suck up to him. He stared at me for a while before sighing. He turned and walked out the front door. I took this as a silent affirmation and grinned.

I followed closely behind him as we made our way onto the front walkway. I had never spent much time anywhere but Boston or the forest directly outside of it, so a new place was a bit nerve racking for me. I looked around me, taking in all the sights and sounds.

Directly to my left, I saw a hatchet with a yellow handle buried deep into the side of one of the white pillars holding up the overhanging of the front entrance. I wondered why it would be placed in such an unusual and conspicuous place, though something told me it would not be wise to remove it.

A little ways away I could hear the sound of two arguing men, a few women having a pleasant conversation, the sound of a plough hitting the ground and the wind blowing through the trees. Overall, it was a very peaceful feeling, much more tranquil than the boisterous and almost hostile atmosphere I was used to seeing in the city. I found myself taking a deep breath of autumn air, trying to take it all in.

Connor stopped in front of me suddenly and I plowed into his broad back. I rubbed my aching nose where it hit the quiver that was slung over his shoulder. We had stopped in the backyard near the stables, though the open space looked to have no particular importance. I wondered briefly why we had stopped there. Without turning to look at me, he spoke.

"Let us see what you are capable of."

At first, I didn't understand what he was talking about. But then I heard metal scrape on metal, a sound I was becoming increasingly familiar with, and I realized what it was a moment before it came hurtling at me. I ducked with a girlish squeal as his hidden blade passed inches above my head. I rolled to the side and his tomahawk came smashing down into the grass where my head had been a moment ago. I turned slightly to look at its gleaming sharp edge in the ground an inch away from my eyes and gulped, imagining it impaled in my skull. I had seen first hand the damage that weapon could inflict, and had absolutely no desire to find out for myself whether it hurt as much as the pained screams of the soldiers had made it out to be.

"N-Now Connor, I know you may not like having to teach me," I jumped up as the tomahawk passed under me at knee level, "but don't you think," I leaned back to avoid a blow to the head, "that trying to kill me is a bit melodramatic?" I finished, back hand springing out of the range of a double weapon attack. The fact that I had already witnessed his fighting style, already knew that he was a dual weapons specialist, made it easier to predict his movements. I had never been so grateful for my fighting lessons with Finley than I was now. Had I not gained such valuable knowledge, I would have been dead in seconds. It was easy to see how easy it would be for him to kill an unsuspecting guard with neither the skills nor the foresight to defend himself.

My breath was coming fast and I felt myself working on pure adrenaline. He may be more powerful than me but I was smaller and lighter, which meant dodging was easier for me than it was for him. But it took all of my concentration. One misstep and I was a dead woman. I could barely keep my head on my shoulders as it was.

"Draw your weapon!" He demanded, apparently frustrated at my evasions. He attacked again, and the blade came so close to my ear that I could hear the wind whistle past me. Truth be told, I had forgotten all about my dagger, as my mind was otherwise occupied at that moment. But I couldn't find a time in between his attacks to draw it. My only chance of getting away alive was run, but he was probably faster than me. If only I could immobilize him for a second, I could get away... That's it!

"If you insist!" I jumped through the opening between his legs, which I had noticed he kept far enough apart in his fighting stance for me to fit through, and summer-salted. I pulled my dagger from my belt and plunged it into the dirt with all my strength, catching the tail of his jacket as I did and pinning it into the ground. I didn't waste a moment. I rolled away to avoid another possible attack and made a break for it. That should hold him long enough for what I had in mind.

I heard a grunt as the dagger slipped out of the ground, followed shortly after by pounding footsteps. I set my sights on the flagpole. It was the closest and highest thing that I knew I could climb. I would have preferred a tree but Connor was gaining on me and I knew I would be caught before I got to the forest's edge. When I reached the bottom of the flag pole I quickly scurried up to the top, as nimble as a squirrel, using my inner thighs and ankles as clamps to hold myself. I perched at the top looking down at Connor who was standing at the base. I waved to him.

"Come back down here!" He yelled up to me. I snorted loudly. He had just tried to kill me for the, what was it, third time? And he wanted me to come back down?

"No I think I'll stay right here, thank you very much. I'm not quite ready to die just yet." I shouted back. I prepared to make myself comfortable. Well as comfortable as I could be at the top of a flag pole. It was rather cold this far up and the chilled wind rustled the loose hair around my face that had escaped it's plait. I shivered and wished for the warmth of my cloak. Or better yet, the soft furs I had slept with last night.

"I do not wish to harm you, just come down!" He shouted. I shook my head, half teasing him and half seriously fearing for my life. What if it was a trick to lure me into the range of that deadly tomahawk again? I'd prefer to to take my chances and remain here in the relative safety of my view point.

"Says the man who was swinging a tomahawk at my head a moment ago!" I countered him.

"If you won't come down willingly, I will force you!" He sounded annoyed yet confident at the same time. I wanted to see what he meant but I was too busy readjusting my balance.

"And how, pray tell, do you plan to do that...Ack!" I ducked as an arrow came whizzing by my head. "What happened to not hurting me?!" I shouted, a little breathless.

"That privilege is reserved for people on the ground." I could hear the amusement in his voice, and wanted desperately to look down and see if there might possibly be a smile on his face, but was too busy regaining my grip on the pole to do so. Another arrow shot towards me and I leaned away to avoid it, noticing a moment too late that I had lost my precariously perched position. I scrambled to regain my placement but I was already falling. My heart leaped into my throat. I opened my mouth to scream but what came out surprised me.

"CONNOR!" I shrieked, the same way I had last night, as I plummeted to my death. It seemed his name was an instinctive reaction my mind gave when faced with danger, no doubt having something to do with the psychological trauma that last night had given me. I squeezed my eyes closed as the wind rushed past me and braced myself.

But the impact never came, and I was left to ponder why I wasn't dead. I was laying on something warm and I could hear a loud thumping like a drum in my ear. I opened one eye, then the other, wondering why I wasn't at least in excruciating pain. Directly in front of my eyes I saw red-brown skin and a necklace with three long teeth, fangs of some sort, dangling from it and resting against the hollow above his collarbone. I let my eyes travel upwards slowly, a thick neck, a defined jaw, a strong nose, a faded scar just below his right eye, a spattering of barely distinguishable freckles on high set cheek bones, and finally, a set of dark eyelashes closed over golden brown eyes. I stared at him, mostly because he wasn't looking, and again noticed how handsome he was.

And then I realized what must have happened. Had I _fallen_ on him?

"Oh, Connor, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to fall on you! Are you alright? Are you dead?" I exclaimed frantically. I tried to crawl up from where I lay on his chest to get a better look at his face, to make sure there were no serious injuries, but found I couldn't. I looked down to see what was impeding my movement and saw that his arms were wrapped around my waist. I could feel the blood rush to my face.

"Death has not claimed me just yet." Connor said and I looked down to see that his beautiful brown eyes were now open and looking at me. I smiled, seeing that he was okay. "I managed to catch you before you hit the ground." He sat up and I blushed again. He moved me off his lap and I'm sure my face was about the color of ripe tomatoes just before harvest.

"Thank you then." I said, a bit sheepish at the thought that he'd had to save me a second time within a two day span. He stood up and brushed off his dusty white robes. Back to saying nothing. I'd finally had a decent conversation with him and it was while he was trying to kill me. I sighed.

He offered his hand to help me up and I took it gratefully. His hands where large and calloused, no doubt a product of his constant training, and my comparatively small hand slid easily into it. He hauled me up, though a bit more forcefully than I had been expecting, obviously overestimating my weight. I flew up and hit his hard chest with a thump.

I backed away quickly with my head down, hiding my blushing face. I had never been much of a blusher, had never had a reason to. But ever since I'd met Connor, it was like everyday was a contest to see how red I could get. It made me feel almost like a normal girl, the kind I saw every day on the streets giggling and gossiping in tightly knit groups on the roadside. What was he doing to me?

I felt something warm trickle down my cheek and onto my neck. It felt almost like a bug crawling down my face. I touched my fingers to the itchy tingling, curious. But when I brought my hand away, my eyes widened when I found it stained red.

I slapped my hand back to my cheek, trying to stop the blood flow. The gash from when James had hit me had obviously reopened during either the fight or the fall. I crouched to the ground and pulled some bandages from my pack, cursing myself as I did. I tried my hardest not to get any of my blood on Connor's old shirt, feeling bad that I should stain another's borrowed garments, especially ones as lovely as these, the first day I had received them.

Ruffling through my bag with one hand made it significantly more challenging. Finally finding the bandages I needed, I unrolled them, always careful that none of the blood dripping from the wound got on the shirt. But then I had another problem, the cut was too bloody to bandage by the time I had it out. I cursed myself again.

"Let me help you." A surprisingly gentle hand turned my chin to look at Connor, who had miraculously retrieved a wet rag from somewhere, most likely the stables a short distance away. He sat me down cross-legged in front of him while he kneeled and gently started cleaning my wound. I couldn't stop myself from staring at him while he did. He didn't have his usual stony expression on. It was now soft and peaceful, the face he only ever showed when he was helping someone. It smoothed all of the hard lines of his face, and a man who had just appeared to be maybe thirty morphed into someone much younger before my very eyes. It was fascinating to watch. I had to say, I much preferred this look on him than the one he usually carried around.

As he was finishing up, he suddenly looked down into my eyes. I looked away, embarrassed to have been caught staring. I could still feel the heat in my face, and the tingling sensation that occurred when his fingers brushed across my skin. I could only hope he didn't notice.

"Thank you. It seems the tides have turned. Now _you're_ the one saving _me_ all the time." Was that a smile? I could have sworn I just saw the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. But before I had the chance to confirm my suspicions, it was gone, and his usual stoic expression was back. I sighed. Maybe someday.

Connor got to his feet once more and again offered a hand to help me. I obliged, cautiously getting up to my feet. He handed me my dagger back. I looked at him questioningly, suddenly remembering that he could have fatally wounded me in that fight just now. Had come dangerously close to doing so multiple times.

"Achilles was right. There is great potential in you. When matched with a superior opponent, you are light on your feet, quick in your judgement and decisions, knowledgeable in how to read the other's movements, prepared to use your strengths to your advantage, and you are most impressively resourceful. However, you lack conviction in wielding your weapon and are impulsive. The flagpole, while inaccessible to most, is not suitable when trying to evade a pursuer that is right on your heels. Once you get up, you are trapped, and if they were to have a long range weapon, such as a gun or a bow, you are dead. There must always be a path for escape, you must always think a step ahead. And most importantly, you must never be cornered." I stared, baffled. That must have been the longest speech I'd heard him make thus far.

So that fight was just a test? He wasn't actually trying to kill me? Well, that was relieving in a sense. But what a horrible kind of test! I thought I would die! Though that may have been the point and it did make sense. Oh well. What he said was true when I thought about it. I was actually impressed that he'd managed to pick all that up from just one bout.

"Also, you are reluctant to draw your weapon on the opponent..." He continued. I raised my hand, cutting off that particular line of analysis because, though it may have been true for that specific fight, it was not always.

"Only on people I consider to be close to me. I admit, I don't have what it takes to kill someone I care about unprovoked, so don't attempt to ask. However, there have been many a time when I've had to use my dagger for more than just parlor tricks." I said solemnly, remembering the one specific time where I'd had to kill a man. It was not something I looked back on warmly. More that, it had been the day I'd truly lost my innocence, had truly become part of the resistance. I must have had some kind of expression on my face because it alerted Connor to my uneasy state.

"When was this?" He asked. I could here genuine curiosity in his voice, a rare happening, so I decided to indulge it in hopes of more. Plus, maybe talking about it with someone other than Finley would do me good.

"It was when I was fourteen. Me and my friend Finley were trouble makers, always have been, but just before that, Finley had gotten mixed up with the wrong sort. He had pretty much grown up on the streets, bringing in money for him and his mother while his father was drinking away in the pubs, so he was no stranger to the darker side of Boston. He was the one who taught me how to fight, actually. Anyways, a week after he'd gotten into a tangle with some Redcoat soldiers off duty, we were walking back from the market. Apparently they got drunk and decided they wanted revenge on him, and didn't care that I was their while they took it. There were maybe six of them in all. They pulled weapons on Finley, and it was clear they weren't going to let him go alive. So we fought them off, me with my dagger and Finley with his kitchen knife. We managed to incapacitate most of them but, as Finley was finishing up with his last one, I saw another sneak up behind him with a club. I didn't even have time to think. I just swung my dagger around and stabbed him in the back. I watched him fall, and waited for him to stand back up, but he never did. He was the first, the only man I have ever killed." I was too caught up in the memory to see the sad look Connor gave me.

I did not regret the action I took so long ago, as I had grown stronger for it. I only wished the moment I'd had to kill did not come so early. I shook my head, as if to clear the unpleasant thoughts from my mind.

"That's all in the past now though. I've long since come to terms with it. He was a bad person, no one missed him when he was gone, not even his drunkard buddies. If it's those kinds of people, people who hurt others from evil motivation or selfish gain, I am confident that my blade will not fail. However, the moment you ask me to draw my weapon on an innocent, or someone that I deem a good and honest person, that is when I will leave." I told him, completely serious about every word I said. I would not sign up to be a slave of the Brotherhood, I would choose who I would kill. I gave him a moment to take in what I said before he nodded, apparently having accepted my terms. He then seemed to remember something.

"Why then, did you not strike me? I am not innocent, I have killed hundreds of men, so many lives I cannot even count them. Why did you stay your hand?" He asked cautiously. I didn't even need to think to answer. I already knew. I would only tell him part of it though. I smiled at him.

"Because you are _good_, Connor. You do not kill innocents, just like I don't. You are honest and kind and humble. You strive to do the right thing, always, even when others don't have the courage. I admire you for that." Everything I just said was the truth, undeniable as it was unchangeable. I had spoken every word from the heart, hoping that maybe he would see what I see. I knew that, even though he understood that it was what he must do, deep down inside he regretted having to take human life. And for a single second, he dropped his mask and I could see just how shocked he was by my words.

There were so many things I wished to do. Before I met Connor, I did small things. I would vandalize British wagons, blow up supplies (that had been an accident), throw stink bombs into the portholes of British frigates. Now I had the opportunity to accomplish so much more. I could finally make a difference with my own hands.

I decided, right then and there, that I would give this my life. My all. I would be Connor's shadow, his shield, his weapon, whatever he needed me to be. If death was required, I would gladly give it in his place. In order to finally see love grace this land instead of the fear and hate that had been possessing it ever since I was a child, I would be an Assassin.

"So," I said, pulling out my dagger, "where do we start?"

**_I hope you guys are recognizing that they are _****finally****_ getting to know each other. Sorry guys, I don't do half-assed characters. This story is going to be the soul searching kind. So any of you that like a quick hook up, it's probably not going to happen, though I do plan to have some of that good stuff, and more, later. Neither of them, especially Connor, can even fathom the concept of a relationship yet, mostly because neither of them has been in a proper relationship before. You may not see it, but Connor is slowly growing attached to the girl. It will grow more pronounced later on. Either next chapter or the one after that will be the start of a mission so keep reading. Also, I really appreciate reviews. Without them, I lose my motivation to write. So just keep reviewing and you'll have more chapters. Love you guys!_**


	7. Robes

_**I have no excuse for why I haven't updated in so long, other than I was really busy with the production of Godspell that I was in. Standing ovation for every performance, not that I'm bragging or anything... But now that that's over, I can once again focus on writing. So here's this super belated chapter! I do not own AC3.**_

Robes

Over the next half year, Connor and I had fallen into our roles of student and master, well at least he had. My feelings for him grew with every passing day, to the point where I had a big, fat crush looming over my head, ready to flatten me at any moment. I could feel myself growing stronger, faster, and smarter. Every day I got up with the roosters and trained well into the night. My muscles burned and my head strained from all of the knowledge being poured into it. What baby fat was left on my body had quickly vanished.

Achilles sometimes oversaw my training, making pointers every now and then. He was much less lenient than Connor was, but I was grateful to have the chance to improve myself. But most often, I spent my days with Connor.

As the days went by, his personality began to shape itself before my eyes. I found out that he was very stubborn, was a bit arrogant at times, and had a childish side. His sense for right and wrong were unwavering and he was highly skilled at his chosen way of life. He had a deep love for his people, a love as great as his hate for those who would harm them, namely the Templars.

Oh, the way he talked about the Mohawk tribe, it melted my heart. It made me want to see his village, meet the people he loved so dearly. It made me want to experience all the wondrous traditions that they had. It was one of the few things I had gotten him to open up to me about.

There were also the little, less obvious things that I had observed of his character. I had discovered that he had a weak stomach for liquor, loved sweet things, and had trouble sleeping. Sometimes, late in the night, I would hear him screaming in a different language. One word popped up often, though I didn't know what it meant, the word "Ista". Those times when it would get really bad I would take a single candle, run to his room and sit by his bedside. I always found him in the same condition; eyes squeezed shut, fists clenched tightly in the furs draped over his bed, a cold sweat broken out over his forehead. I knew better than to wake a lethal man from his night terrors. In his delirium he could mistake me for an enemy and I would be in my grave before his mind fully came back to him. But I could not just sit and watch while he suffered.

My mother had sung me a lullaby every night before I went to sleep, the same that I taught to Tabitha for her own daughter the day I left Boston. A sad but entrancing melody that would lull anyone into the deepest of dreams. One night I'd had the idea to sing it to Connor when he had been restless, and so far it was the only thing that had succeeded in calming him down. It was a heartbreaking sight to see, those nights when he had nightmares. He looked so anguished, so sad. I was probably one of the only people to ever see him cry.

I wondered sometimes what kind of horrible tragedy could have happened to give him such nightmares. I would never ask though, I didn't want to pry. And, to my comfort, they seemed to occur less and less often over time. Of course I had my own demons to deal with, but they would never be so terrible as his seemed to be. Then again, a life like his was bound to create some disturbing memories.

I would die of embarrassment if Connor ever found out about my singing for him when he had nightmares. So every time it happened, I made sure to leave as soon as he was calm. He had never once woken up and I was eager to keep my lucky streak. So this became as normal a routine as everything else.

I had learned many impromptu lessons along with general combat during the course of my training, like making fires and hunting. Connor told me that he had learned all of his basic skills from hunting, and that I should as well. So he told me that if I wanted to eat, I had to catch my own food for the first two months of training. I almost starved before finally figuring it out, with the help of my newly acquainted friend Myriam. As it turned out, Myriam was also the one that took care of me the night Connor brought me to the homestead.

Those long days in the forest had taught me a lot about stealth and tracking. The tree climbing part I already had down pat, so that part of "learning" went by quickly. But I had acquired valuable skills from the experience, such as baiting, trapping, and using a bow.

My days were filled with nothing but training, Connor style. And let me tell you, Connor was a hard ass. Though I had a feeling Achilles would have been harder. I liked the old man, but I had witnessed his skills, and don't let the limp fool you, he was a force to be reckoned with. I think I was most afraid of that cane. He likes to trip and hit people with it.

Working so hard had wrought serious changes on my body. All the physical labour had toned my body into a fighting machine. I had refined muscles in places that I hadn't even considered, like my back, my calves, and my neck. I wasn't complaining about not having to wear a corset though. I had learned that wearing corsets inhibited the growth of core muscles, so I realized that yes, women can have abs too. And I'd also found that the labor made me no less womanly. In fact, I liked the way I looked now much more than I did before. Though I didn't have a ridiculously tiny waist as was the current style, which I had never been fond of in the first place, I realized that the extra physical work had made my feminine assets considerably more, for lack of a better word, perky.

But aside from the physical changes, I had also received quite a bit of mental change as well. My awareness had grown and I found I was sharper to pick up on sounds and scents that I normally would have disregarded before. I could sense when someone was behind me or around a corner, or what direction they had taken if I could no longer see them. It was all quite staggering.

And, to my immense pride, when I had challenged my mentor to a race, I had come out the victor. And I held it over his head as often as I could when his occasional bout of arrogance exceeded the level of my patience.

But one day, six months after I had begun on my long journey to the Brotherhood, instead of being woken up at the crack of dawn, I slept until I woke up on my own. Which wasn't much later considering the habit. But still, it was a shock not waking up to Achilles standing over my bedside brandishing his cane like a sword.

I got up and dressed in my new black hunting pants that Ellen had tailored for me, as the ones I had originally brought with me had ripped, and another one of Connor's old shirts. I couldn't go into town to buy new shirts because I was still a wanted woman, but Connor was willing to lend me all of his old clothing.

I walked downstairs in my bare feet and my waist length hair hanging loose on my back, still suspicious of why no one had woken me up. It was unlike either of my mentors to let me slack off on my training.

I crept along the side of the wall and towards the living room with all the silence my hard work had granted me, thinking that maybe this was another test. I peeked around the wall into the living room, where Achilles would usually be, sitting by the fire or gazing out the window. He wasn't there.

I heard a floorboard creak behind me and the whooshing of air. My intuition, built from months of training, propelled my body into action. I sensed it was a blunt object, as the air lacked that metallic ringing that a blade carries with it, so I put my hand behind my head to catch the object flying at it. When my hand came into contact, I grasped it and yanked it out of whoever's hold it was in. I whipped around and held the blunt object in one hand, my dagger in the other, ready to fight with both if needed.

But when I turned around, it was just Achilles calmly standing in the hall, his hands casually placed behind his back and looking as if he had always been there. I looked to my hand. It was his wooden cane, the same one he liked to discipline Connor and I with. I handed it back to him respectfully. I didn't care to touch the damned thing.

So it had been a test after all. There had been four or five times during my training when one of my mentors would randomly attack me, just to see how my skills had improved. I hadn't passed a single one until now, and usually walked away with some kind of new injury. I had at least two scars from such occasions. He looked down at me with a critical eye and we stood in silence for a few long moments.

"You are ready." He said cryptically, before turning abruptly and limping away. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Ready for what?" I asked, following after him. He turned the corner and stopped at a brass candelabra on the wall. He pulled it down and the familiar secret passageway was opened in the wall beside it. I had never spent a great deal of time here, only enough to practice with the dummy and learn about the Templars.

"You'll see." He told me simply. I stayed silent and followed him down the creaking stairs, knowing better than to argue with the old dark skinned man, as it would only result in a bruise to the knee compliments of that accursed cane he always carried with him. I followed him into the dimly lit basement, breathing in its musty, cramped scent. I saw Connor standing in the middle of the room with his arms crossed over his chest in front of the mannequin that once wore his Assassin's robes. He was imposing and handsome as always.

"She is ready." Achilles reiterated to Connor. He nodded and stepped aside, revealing the glorious sight behind him. I gasped in surprised wonder.

There, on the mannequin, hung a set of female robes.

The robes were similar in style to Connor's, only this jacket had cropped sleeves. It was in the style of the continental military jacket with long tails and red trim. Underneath it was a light blue under jacket for warmth, followed by what I assumed would be my breast bindings. The jacket was tied together with the signature red sash that all robes had with a simple metal Assassin's emblem on it. The pants would be my usual black hunting pants, along with a new leather belt with lots of places to hold my weapons. Instead of my worn hunting boots, I was surprised to find Native American leggings and buckskin moccasins.

And, best of all, on a stand beside the mannequin, I saw what looked like a leather wrist guard. A hidden blade. I swear you could see stars dancing in my eyes. Were these mine?

"Neela, you have gone through the training with remarkable speed. Never once have I heard you complain or whine about the difficulty, a feat that not even Connor had accomplished." he looked at Connor with a meaningful expression, "And have shown a vast improvement in your skills. I think it best that you have these. I had them tailored for you. Put them on." Achilles demanded. My heart leapt joyfully in my chest. He needn't ask me twice. I ripped the robes off the mannequin and ran into the dressing booth, eager to finally feel the Assassins robes on my skin.

A moment later I emerged with a huge smile on my face, my head held up proudly. I ran my hands over the material of my jacket, relishing in the crisp feel. I knew I would be reluctant to take these off later. Achilles looked on with a smile and Connor had a sort of dazed expression on his face, one I was unaccustomed to seeing. Perhaps the idea of my finally having graduated to this level had not been given enough time to sink in. Or perhaps, if I could flatter myself, I just looked good.

I flipped the hood up, grinning like some kind of mad fool and with a flick of my wrist, pulled out my new hidden blade, swinging it around in a flourish before retracting it. I felt as light as a feather, as weightless as air itself. Their was nothing in the world that could bring me down. I looked to my mentors, almost in tears and gave them the biggest smile my face could manage before cracking in two. I ran to Connor and gave him a tight hug, thoroughly surprising both men. Connor was practically frozen in my firm grip, which was natural because I was rarely confident enough to show such affection, and he certainly wasn't one to initiate it. I was much too happy to be embarrassed by my actions at that moment though.

"Thank you, Connor, thank you for everything." I told him gratefully before releasing him. He nodded once and gave me a rare almost smile that made my heart hammer in my bound chest. I turned to Achilles, who put one hand on my shoulder and smiled in a fatherly manner with a twinkle in his eye.

"Welcome to the brotherhood."

**_Yep, I totally skipped over training cuz I thought it was boring, plus it fit in excellently with the time frame. But now Neela is a full fledged assassin, which means that she gets to go on missions now. Oh here's a fun fact, if you look at the picture at the top of this page, you'll see Neela in both full assassin's garb and in colonial dress. I drew it before I started writing this. I will probably add updates to the robes as we go along, but keep reading and don't forget to review!_**


	8. First Mission

_**Yeah, so I've been away for a long time. But, in my defense, I was caught up in end of the year work. You know how it is. It's worse this year because I'm a senior, and I have college stuff to worry about. But the good news is, I will be graduating next week! So I will have more time to focus on my beloved fanfiction. I do not own AC3!**_

First Mission

Assassin. I was an assassin. No matter how much I thought it, I still couldn't believe it. My new robes allowed me to carry all of my weapons; my dagger, my blow pipe, my bow and arrows and my poison blow darts/ throwing needles and knives. I preferred to use poison in my kills if I could, mostly because it was less intimate and quicker for the victims.

My knowledge of herbs had grown exponentially since I'd left Boston. My medicines became more efficient than even some of the apothecaries in town, maybe even surpassing my old neighbor. My success was mostly due to self experimentation. I never gave any medicine to anyone before I had tried it on myself. As a result I had become relatively resistant to poisonous substances, as most know, herbs can either heal or hurt depending on the dosage.

I made my own poisons from herbs and various other toxic substances found in the wilderness, my personal favorite being a combination of concentrated potato sprout, giant hogweed extract, deadly nightshade roots, and the venom of the timber rattlesnake. It killed almost instantly and was excellent for long range weapon use. I had even given some of my creation to Connor for his darts since it worked so well.

I had gained a reputation from my knowledge of medicinal and deadly herbs, and sometimes I would get visitors from outside the Homestead for my services. My most popular medicines were for fevers, pregnancy, common aches and pains, and menstrual cramps. However, I became known for my cure for impotence in men, the only person to have created a successful cure, albeit temporary. I had tested it on one of the men who lived here when he came to me with his problem. After a few different attempts with different combinations of remedies, he had reported that it had worked and his wife was now pregnant with their first child. As you can imagine, I became rather wealthy from the sale of this particular medicine.

Of course, I never used my real name during the sales of any of my products, as I was still a wanted woman. I took on my mother's name, Evelyn, instead, though people from the outside had given me nicknames such as "The Witch" or "the Potions Woman" which I didn't really appreciate. But not using my name allowed me to work undetected, so no one from outside with whom I would conduct business would spread my real name or my whereabouts. I didn't want James coming after me again, though now I was better equipped to defend myself.

I was essentially a long range fighter, a sniper, if you will. Because of my small size and weight, I was more lithe and able to perch myself in more precarious and strategic positions than Connor would be able to. It was also for this reason why I was at a disadvantage in a hands on fight. While I was great with my dagger, it can only go so far before strength comes into play. I would lose against Connor in a hand to hand duel four out of five times, just because of his superior brawn. Therefore, I tended to strike from the shadows. Stealth was one of my specialtieS. When Connor went out to do patrols, I was often near him as a cover. If we were to wipe out a scouting group, he would kill from below and I would kill from above. That way, we covered each other's blind spots.

But that's about all I'd ever done. I had never been in a real battle, nor had I assassinated anyone of importance. That was why it was so surprising that I had already been made an assassin. I had been expecting at least another year of training.

I laid on the roof of the manor with my arms and legs spread eagle, letting the sun warm my face. Today was the first in a long time that I didn't have training to occupy my time. It was quite relaxing. I could lay here all day...

"Ratonhnhaké:ton! Ratonhnhaké:ton!" There goes my peaceful afternoon. I sat up to find a Native man riding horseback up the street. The name he screamed was not familiar to me, but Connor was the only person here that he would have a reason to see. He was half Native after all. Perhaps Ratonhnhaké:ton was his real name?

I jumped from the roof and onto the porch, directly in front of the Native man. He looked startled by my sudden appearance.

"May I help you?" I asked politely, hoping that the man could speak English. I had to make sure he was not an enemy before he entered, though I was fairly sure he wasn't. He looked to the door and then to me.

"Yes, I must speak to Ratonhnhaké:ton. It is urgent." I nodded. This man was obviously in a hurry so it must be important. I opened the door to the house and called inside, loud enough that Connor and Achilles could hear me from the secret basement, where they were more than likely to be at this time of day.

"Connor!" I shouted. I looked to the stranger standing beside me, "what is your name?" I asked him.

"It is Kanen'to:ko" he replied. I nodded.

"Kanen'to:ko is here to see you!" I shouted through the door. I heard two sets of heavy footsteps, one slightly more uneven than the other, probably Achilles with his limp, climbing the creaky stairs from the basement. I stood back as Connor came into view.

"Kanen'to:ko! Why are you here? Has something happened?" He asked. I looked on in confusion. They sounded like they had a close relationship. I was both curious and envious at the same time. An old friend perhaps?

"William Johnson has returned, with all the money required to buy our land." Kanen'to:ko said quickly. William Johnson! I'd heard that name before! My dagger was originally crafted for that man. "He meets with the elders as we speak. I have begged them to resist but I fear he shall have his way unless you intervene." The man sounded desperate. Connor stepped forward.

"How is this possible? We destroyed the tea!" Was he talking about that night that he had come to hide in my room? I'd heard of the dealings that William Johnson had with the East India Company from the barmaid at the Greene Tavern. Perhaps he had been using the money from the tea to buy the land that Connor's village sat on? That seemed likely. I could tell where this was going.

I slunk away from the conversation and ran upstairs to my bedroom, a spare they had cleaned out for me the day after I came here. I started grabbing my weapons, my extra bottles of poisons, and my pack. I grabbed the things Connor would need as well from his room. When I had finally headed back down, Connor and Kanen'to:ko were walking out of the house towards the carriage parked outside. I nodded at Achilles as I passed.

"Keep that reckless boy from doing anything stupid!" He called after me. I waved my hand over my head to show I had heard and hurried out to where the two men began to get into the carriage waiting outside the manor. When I'd caught up to them, I thrust the extra arrows, ammunition, and whetstone into Connor's chest. He looked up, surprised. I smirked.

"Please. Did you think you were going alone?" I asked smugly and hopped into the carriage beside Kanen'to:ko. He too looked surprised to see me.

"Ratonhnhaké:ton, who is this strange girl?" He asked as Connor got into the carriage and closed the door. He bayed the coachmen, a recruit named Darwin, to take us to our destination before turning to his childhood friend.

"She is Neela Briar, my apprentice." He told him. I pulled back my hood and smiled at him. His eyes seemed to widen at the sight of my face for some reason. I stuck out my hand and he shook it, eyes still on my face. Was there something on it I should known about? I checked my appearance in the reflection of my dagger surreptitiously. Everything seemed to be in order. I looked back at the strange looking Native.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Kanen'to:ko." I smiled wider, happy to be acquainted with someone from Connor's past. I had always gotten the feeling that I shouldn't ask about Connor's childhood, something about his demeanor whenever the subject came up put me off, so I didn't know much. And now I had a part of it sitting in front of me. This was a rare chance to learn something new about my mentor.

I carefully looked over the stranger. He wore brightly colored warriors clothing, with many beautiful bead works and feathers adorning it. His hair was arranged strangely, with two thick braids falling from the sides of his head, the hair on top cut short so it stood on end. His face had the same weathered appearance as Connor's, his skin maybe a few shades darker. Now that I had a proper source for comparison, I could now distinctly distinguish the British side of Connor's heritage. From the clothing to the lines of his face, it was clear that along with Native, he also had English blood.

"You are very beautiful." Kanen'to:ko said, pulling me from my daydream, still holding my hand. I blushed at the compliment and looked away. No one had ever told me that so bluntly. I had been told many times that I had a handsome face, but only in the context of common courtesy.

"Thank you. I am unaccustomed to such flattery." I smiled shyly as I slipped unintentionally into my Irish accent. He smiled back. Connor cleared his throat abruptly and I looked to him, blushing when I realized that my hand was still enclosed in the other man's. I pulled it away, quickly. Connor looked strangely irritated.

"Neela has been training under me for the past six months. She has just completed her training today." He finished. I smiled proudly, the sense of accomplishment still new in my mind, before remembering something.

"Oh right!" I exclaimed, pulling out the extra vials of poison from my pack and putting on my leather gloves for safety purposes. My needles were in need of a fresh coat of poison. I removed the long 4 inch needles from their slots on my armband.

"You might want to move back." I told Kanen'to:ko, who was looking over my shoulder curiously. He leaned back, but still had a curious look on his face. It was not wise to be working with poison while an onlooker did not know of it's danger. I held the vial carefully away from any exposed skin.

"What is that?" He asked. I carefully uncorked the vial filled with the greenish-yellow liquid, careful not to spill a single drop.

"Lethal poison." I stated calmly. Kanen'to:ko leaned back sharply, as was expected. Many had similar reactions. "You may switch seats with Connor if the proximity makes you uncomfortable. It is quite deadly." I told him courteously. I always informed others of the consequences of being too close to the poison. Even though I was relatively immune and therefore comfortable working with the poison, it did not mean that others were too. He looked on cautiously before nodding reluctantly. He and Connor switched seats in the carriage, Connor plopping down casually beside me, already used to this routine. Truthfully, I should have done this earlier, but what with the initiation into the Brotherhood and the acquisition of my new robes, I had forgotten.

I retrieved my first needle, dipping one end into the poison, then the other, making sure that it did not drip anywhere. I replaced the needle into its slot on my arm band.

This process repeated itself ten times until I was done with them all. I put the cork back in the bottle before wrapping it up in a handkerchief and placing it in my pack. I took off my safety gloves and put those in my pack too.

"That was most impressive. Where did you get such poison?" Kanen'to:ko inquired. I smiled, proud to show off my handiwork. I had slaved long and hard over it, after all.

"Thank you, and I made it myself." I stated with a grin. The carriage came to a sudden stop.

"We are here." Connor said. The smile slipped from my face as I prepared myself mentally for battle. The three of us got out of the carriage, telling Darwin to drive around for awhile before heading back to the house. We had stopped at the drop off of a cliff, deeper into the forest than I had ever gone. I took a deep breath of the clean air, excited for my first mission as an official Assassin. We walked to the edge of a cliff where Kanen'to:ko pointed to a white house on the other side of a gorge.

"Johnson Hall is just across this river, the water is well guarded." He said. I could just make out a patch of white paneling in the distance behind a gathering of trees. Connor put a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Wait here for us here." Kanen'to:ko nodded and stepped back. I made my way to Connor's side, looking out over the open expanse to the house. There was no visible way to climb down the side of the cliff, and even from here I could see that the ground below was infested with bears. Through the trees then.

"Be prepared. There may be obstacles to encounter that we do not see." Connor told me, the last piece of advice he would give as my mentor. I smiled and flipped my white hood over my face, silently giving my answer. He nodded and stepped back.

"Ladies first, _partner_." I said confidently, smirking as I gave him his new title. His mouth twitched at the comment. I stepped back, judging the distance, and readied myself. My smirk grew into an eager smile as my heart pounded in excitement. I took a deep breath.

And with that I leapt into the open air.

**_Neela is finally part of the brotherhood and has received her first mission. We're getting into the events of the game now, so you will see more characters you know from now on. Please continue to review for me, without that, I won't have the motivation to continue writing. So please leave some comments! I'm begging you! _**


	9. Cutting It Close

_**I'm back! And guess what? I'm a college girl now! Well, sort of. I've**_ **_registered_**_** for my first semester classes anyway. If you couldn't already tell by my pen name, I love art. So I'm taking pretty much ALL art classes. It will be heaven. On with the story! I do not own AC3.**_

Cutting It Close

"What's the plan?" I asked Connor from my position in a tall pine tree. There were guards patrolling the docks where we needed to cross the river. We couldn't take them out one by one, or they'd raise the alarm and send soldiers out looking for us. While I was pondering this, I heard Connor take out one of his pistols. I eyed the barrels of black powder on the edge of the dock, in prime positions for a perfect "accident". Why would they put those there anyways? "Oh, I see."

Connor put a finger to his lips and I nodded. We would use hand signals and whistles to communicate from now on. Connor leaped silently to the ground and ran into the underbrush, me following closely after. We crouched low, so the tall river grasses could camouflage us.

We stalked through the shallowest part of the river, Connor holding his gun above water to make sure that none of his powder got wet as it would be ruined if it did. Bugs bit my arms and face, and I resisted the urge to smack them away. Silently, we approached our targets.

When we were close enough to the dock and the guards could almost see us, Connor jumped up and pulled the trigger, not waiting to see the magnificent explosion that came after before sprinting to the other side of the river. I followed quickly behind him as he ran behind trees and bushes to get around, hiding from every guard that passed. There was no need to kill if we did not have to. I took to the trees, carefully moving with the foliage to mask my presence. Connor whistled a bird call behind me, telling me to be careful. I whistled back my affirmation.

While Connor took out a guard passing directly in front of him using his rope dart to pull him into the underbrush, I blew a carefully aimed poison dart at a soldier just rounding the bend in the path a little ways ahead. He was down in seconds. This is how Connor and I often worked. We had each other's backs. Each and every movement was carefully placed, every Red Coat taken out with skilled proficiency.

We made our way stealthily to the house in this way, Connor eventually joining me in the trees, where arguments could be heard. I heard another whistle, that of a robin, signaling me to go right. I did so, staying to the higher branches of the trees. I could see Connor from the corner of my eye, always in view. He did not require a protector, I knew he didn't, but I would act the role none the less.

Connor did not know of my self-proclamation to be his silent shadow. I had long ago decided, on the first day of my training, that I would give my life for his cause. For freedom. And making sure that Connor lived to accomplish it was my goal. Even if I had to give the ultimate sacrifice, I would do it if it meant he didn't have to. He was too important, to me and to the New World, for him to die before all was finished.

I assume my crush had a bit of an effect on this perspective as well. I'm pathetic.

From the tree tops I could see the Natives surrounded by a squadron of men with guns. I sat in a branch over looking the gathering, waiting for Connor to appear. He had told me earlier that I was not yet experienced enough to attempt the assassination myself, and that I should watch and learn from his example for next time. For this particular mission, I was meant to provide back up should anything go amiss. I yearned to do more, to be truly useful, but Connor was my master and I trusted his judgements.

I sat crouched down in the large maple tree nearest the clearing, pressing myself against the trunk and remaining absolutely still so as not to be seen. One improper movement could send the entire situation into chaos and I was not keen to destroy my first mission. I observed the confrontation playing out below me with wary eyes. It seemed a high ranking soldier was conversing with an elder Native man. I tuned in to what they were saying.

"...to tell you and yours to leave." The older bald Native man was saying to the British officer with a beard, blue eyes, and brown hair that was just starting to turn gray. The officer, wearing a well tailored red British coat with what looked like a traditional Irish sash, William Johnson I presumed, looked up at him with a regretful expression on his face.

"Fine then, I offered you an olive branch, and you knocked it from my hand." He said with a strong Irish accent. He waved forth some of his men, "Perhaps you will respond better to the sword." The men, maybe a dozen or more of them, pointed their muskets at the group of fearful looking Natives. I sucked in a nervous breath as I watched from the large tree located to the right of the meeting. Where was Connor? This was getting dangerous for these people.

"Are you threatening us?" A younger Native boy asked in nervous disbelief. Johnson looked to him sadly, yet with conviction.

"Yes." He answered honestly. A firing squad lined up to shoot the older man who had spoken before. The other few Native men were held back by another group of soldiers when they tried to go to their comrade's aid. I pulled an arrow from the quiver on my back and notched it in my bow, ready to use it if need be. And I might, considering Connor's noticeable absence. Had he encountered some sort of interference while circling around the back of the hall? I looked to the surrounding trees, hoping to see the familiar streak of white signifying Connor's presence, but saw none.

Johnson raised his hand for the command and I drew back my arm, making ready to fire. I would not let this innocent man die because of poor timing. I took a deep breath to calm my racing heart beat and steady my shaking hand as Johnson opened his mouth for the command...

And then he was dead. Or dying, rather. Connor had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, tomahawk blade buried deep in Johnson's back. I had been so focused on what I was doing that I had not noticed his entrance.

All of the men stood frozen in shock. I loosened my grip on the drawn arrow, relieved that I would not have to use it just yet, but not releasing it as the danger had not passed. Connor quickly searched the body thoroughly but speedily, pulling an envelope out of the dying man's breast pocket and placing it inside the water-tight leather pouch on his hip. William Johnson murmured something I couldn't hear, probably his last words, before going limp.

I hissed in alarm when one of the men recovered from the shock faster than the others and pointed his musket to Connor's turned back. My eyes focused on the soldier, narrowing my vision to the specific point I wanted to aim for, and I let my already notched arrow fly. It hit the man in the back of the neck, the stone arrow head protruding gruesomely out of his jugular, and he fell to the ground with a gurgled cry of pain. Blood bubbled from his neck and mouth, spewing a decent distance away from his body. The image had apparently jarred the others out of their shock.

Connor looked to the men, then to me in my place in the tree, conveying a silent message, before sprinting headlong in the direction of the cliff. I swung to the ground and ran after him, the guards following behind us. I had to stab one that tried to stop me in the gut with my dagger, and another unfortunate man went down missing his right arm. I caught up to Connor as we quickly separated the distance between us and the remaining Redcoats pursuing us.

"Cutting it a little close weren't you?" I asked, annoyed at his poor timing. He'd nearly given me a heart attack both when he failed to show up until the last possible moment and when he had nearly gotten a bullet through his back when he wasn't looking. He'd feel my wrath for scaring me like that.

He threw a sidelong glance at me and let the corner of his mouth twitch up into a smirk. It was only for a moment, but it was enough to completely throw me off my game. I blushed and huffed, cursing my female hormones. Even while we were running for our lives, he still managed to surprise me with those sudden moments of cuteness.

Because of the long days I had spent running with Connor trying to improve my speed and stamina, we easily pulled ahead of the soldiers, though we would eventually have to find a more permanent way to lose them. We leapt over rocks and weaved through the trees before eventually coming to a stop at a sheer cliff face.

I looked over the edge at the fifty foot drop to the water below. I gulped loudly. I was not afraid of heights, and would have made the leap without a second thought if not for one small problem.

"Connor." I said nervously, eying the restless surface below nervously. He had looked ready to jump at that moment, but was stopped at the sound of my voice, "I think we may have overlooked something in my training."

"What would that be?" He asked cautiously. I looked from the cliff's edge to him to the watery depths below us and took a step back. I could hear the soldiers getting closer and knew my time was running out.

"I can't swim." I told him honestly. There had never been a reason to learn, as I had never been on a ship before. Most women of Boston, in fact, did not know how to swim. The only place to learn was the harbor, and no parent in their right mind would let a child play in those waters. Much too dangerous.

Connor looked startled at this realization, apparently never having considered the possibility that I lacked such a simple ability. I fidgeted in my place for a moment while I could see the gears in his head turn. The soldiers were not far now, they would be here any second.

Connor's face suddenly hardened, apparently having come to a decision. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me into his arms. Of course, being the crushing, blushing young woman that I am, my face turned beat red.

"Connor, what...?" I started to ask but was cut off as he lifted my feet off the ground and carried me to the side of the cliff.

"Hold onto me. We are going to jump." He said firmly, the words reverberating in his chest. I gasped. Had I not made it clear enough that I could not swim? I tried to struggle out of his iron hold but I could have been pushing against a stone wall for all the good it did me. He was as strong as a bear. In fact his grip on me tightened further, to the point where it became painful. He edged closer to the drop off.

"Connor-!" But I was too late. He had already jumped. A scream ripped through my throat as we plummeted towards the surface. I watched in terror as the water came racing towards us.

We hit hard. Granted, jumping from fifty feet was bound to do that to you, but I was not prepared. It felt like someone had punched me in the stomach and knocked the wind out of me, which was bad since I was under water. The impact had pulled me away from the security of Connor's arms, and I was now drifting under the cold water, flailing around as my depleted air supply was quickly running out. My clothes and weapons became heavy, pulling me down. I struggled, trying in vain to pull myself back up.

I squeezed my eyes shut as I tried to resist the urge to inhale. My lungs started to burn painfully with the need for oxygen. I couldn't hold it anymore. My mouth opened and bubbles drifted up towards the distant surface. With the bubbles came a black blob, hurriedly making its way towards me. I reached towards it and it grasped my hand, pulling me up.

It seemed an eternity had gone by before my head breeched the surface. I gasped and coughed, hacking up a surprising volume of water. I could feel Connor's sturdy arm around my chest, holding my head above water while I tried to suck in the much needed oxygen. He towed my completely useless dead weight to shore. I dragged my body onto the soft sand, soaking wet and exhausted. I was still coughing from the residual liquid in my lungs.

I groaned and rolled over on to my side, looking at Connor's calm form while he removed his pouch of soaked gun powder and disposed it. I envied his nonchalance, sitting there looking relaxed and handsome as always, like that swim had been only a mere trifle. I groaned again and placed my hand over my aching throat.

"Ugh, you reckless bastard. Don't you _ever_ let me drown again. I told you before that I can't swim." I said, my voice low and rasping from the abuse it had taken. I saw Connor almost smile beside me.

"It seems we will have to rectify that then."

_**That's all for now dearies. Hope you enjoyed it. I certainly did. Though maybe that's just me. You all could hate it and I wouldn't know. Unless, of course, you reviewed my story. Which you should. Only seven more until I reach a hundred. A HUNDRED! So yeah, you should review. Because I'm definitely not posting another chapter until I reach that mile stone. See you later kiddies! And remember to write me to find out what happens next. There is fluff ahead. I love fluff.**_


	10. Drifting Closer

**_Okay, so don't kill me, I have a perfectly good reason why I haven't updated in so long, even though I told you I'd update when I got to 100 reviews. I actually spent a week and a half in Switzerland, hiking the Alps, so I really couldn't update. I'm really sorry. But here it is now! And I added a bit of touchy feely and Connor hotness to make up for it. Once again, I do not own AC3._**

Chapter 9

The next few days were full of nothing but me learning how to swim. We spent our time in the shallows of the river by the manor, me in my breast bindings and hunting pants and him in nothing but a pair of worn blue trousers. It would be a lie to say that I didn't notice. A lot.

His face alone was cause enough for my heart to race, but having to look at his toned broad chest, the droplets of water gleaming off his bare red-brown skin, the compact muscles of his arms and stomach rippling deliciously with every movement, it was too much. I couldn't even make eye contact without blushing like a fool and staring, so most of the time I kept my eyes and body forcefully focused on learning my new skill. It was maddening, having the man I liked shirtless and willing to put himself in close proximity to me so I wouldn't drown. My face might be permanently stained red.

However, since the day he had saved my life for the third time since I've known him, he had not acted any different. If anything, he became more distant. During my lessons, we spoke of nothing but missions and training. One man in particular, John Pitcairn, the name mentioned in the letter Connor had received off of William Johnson's person, appeared often in these conversations. It was apparent that the British General was a Templar, and our next target. Other than that though, there was quite a lack of subject matter. And since I didn't have the ability to look him directly in the eye while we were both in such improper attire, any potential new conversations were effectively cut off.

But that really didn't stop the embarrassing situations that our clothes, or lack there-of, put us in.

There was one particular instance that stuck out in my mind. It was on the first day of my new training, and we were starting with floating. I was on my back, taking shallow breaths like he told me while still keeping air in my lungs. It was hard, and I kept wanting to let all my air out and breathe deeply like I was used to. It certainly didn't help that one of his large hands rested on the small of my bare back to keep me afloat. Very distracting.

He removed his hand, and I floated there for a while. Just when I thought I had it, I lost my concentration and started to sink. I panicked, flailing around for a moment, before Connor's strong arms lifted me out of the water. I sat bridal style in his arms while I coughed and spluttered like a fool and clutched on to his neck. His body was steady and unwavering like stone, as if lifting me was no trouble at all, but it was also warm and comforting. I enjoyed being in his arms more than I would ever admit.

He placed me back down in the water and we did the exercise again.

"Remember to keep your diaphragm expanded, and you will not sink." He told me, running a few calloused fingers lightly across my stomach, just under my navel, to show me the place he was talking about. Neither of us were prepared for what happened next.

His fingers hit a sensitive spot and my body jerked upwards of its own accord. I gasped and shivered at the unfamiliar sensation, my face heating to an impossible shade of red. It wasn't something I'd ever felt before, and the things it did to my body were confusing and unsettling. And if I was being honest, it felt good.

Connor's eyes widened and he snatched his hand away, looking at me in shock. I'd never wanted to drown more than at that moment.

"I am sorry. I did not mean...that is to say, I was not trying to..." He said, stumbling over his words cutely. The flustered look on his face made me giggle. Connor never looked flustered.

"It's alright." I replied hesitantly, going back to my floating position. I noticed his eyes run over my prone body, his gaze lingering on the place he had touched earlier, and blushed brilliantly. I closed my eyes so I could block out his handsome face and not concentrate on the lingering feeling of pleasure still heating my skin. "I'm not really sure what just happened."

He nodded and we went about my new training as we did before, not noticing the subtle but frequent glances we both sent each other.

The fifth day of my swimming lessons had gone well, and I was officially dubbed capable of swimming, thanks to Connor's rigorous schedule. In fact, I found I rather liked it after awhile. I could see myself coming down to the river and swimming for leisure. It was amazingly calming, when there wasn't a certain half naked Native to distract me.

As we were dressing I heard feet running this way. They sounded light and coordinated, probably that of a woman. They padded toward us in a signature stride I had come to specifically identify. I could already tell who it was before she came into view. Myriam, my closest girl friend since I'd come to the homestead more than half a year ago. I had gotten to know her while we went hunting together, and we had been close friends ever since.

She ran to me with my recently acquired dark blue cloak in her arms. If she brought that cloak, it could only mean one thing.

"Neela! You have a client!" She shouted to me as I made my way out of the river, placing the cloak in my arms when I'd dried myself. "He's of high social status, looks anxious for your time." She told me, I nodded gratefully, pulling the heavy cloak over my shoulders and tying it at my neck. I lifted the hood up and over my head, making sure to conceal most of my face. I wore the cloak in case anyone I knew happened to walk into my "store", which was really a generous donation of Miriam's house. Much like my fake name, it was a precaution to make sure that no one might recognize me. And probably a contributor to the rumors spreading around that I was a witch.

"Thank you, Myriam." I told her gratefully and she nodded before running off to keep my costumer busy until I got there.

"A client?" Connor asked, confused. Oh yeah, it seemed I had forgotten to tell him of my business.

"I sell medicines to travelers and such from a store built off Myriam's house. Would you like to see?" I asked. Though I usually kept my consultations with costumers private, I felt he should know what kind of work I do. I did spend most of my time with him after all. He nodded stiffly.

"Follow me then." I led him up the hill to Miriam's cabin on the outskirts of the homestead. Outside I could see a white horse tethered to a wooden fence post, looking very well groomed and with what looked like an expensive black leather saddle on its back. Myriam had been telling the truth about this client's wealth. I slowed my pace and ducked my head as we made our way to the door, making sure my face was completely kept in the shadow of my hood.

Inside I saw a tall man with a well tailored coat and a three point hat. He looked a bit fidgety with shifty eyes and sweaty palms. He didn't look to be very comfortable with his presence here. That was not uncommon though, since most people thought I was some kind of hag sorcerer. I put on my business smile, the only part of my face he could see, which I usually used to comfort nervous guests.

He turned to me and stared in disbelief, wether it was from my odd choice of dress or the intimidating Native standing behind me, I didn't know. I raised my hand in greeting and he shook it, still looking a bit disgruntled.

"Are you the Potions Witch?" He asked nervously. I frowned at my unwelcome nickname. It appeared to have spread to the point where people actually thought it was what I called myself.

"I prefer the name Evelyn." I told him as politely as I could manage, digging up the old "lady's manners" I had been raised with. He looked apologetic and confused at the same time. I heard Connor grunt disapprovingly from behind me, which I ignored. I smiled to both men, showing that no insult had been taken. He had not been the first of my many customers to call me that.

"I am sorry, Mrs. Evelyn. You are quite a bit younger than I had expected." He said, still fidgety. Why was he so nervous? I didn't bite...most of the time. And did he just call me Mrs. Evelyn? What made him assume I was married?

"Do not worry, I have received similar comments in the past. Now, what can I help you with?" I asked him, eager to get on with business.

"Oh yes, well, you see, I have a strange dilemma I was told you could help me with." He said awkwardly. Oh, so he was one of those clients. That explained his behavior, though not quite the level of discomfort he seemed to show. Then again, many men had trouble admitting to such difficulties, as their pride would not allow it.

"I assure you I have most likely already encountered whatever problem you may have. You have no cause for discomfort." I reassured him. He nodded, apparently not having calmed at my words.

"All right then. Recently, my wife and I have been meaning to have a child but we've encountered certain *cough awkwardly* problems. It is mainly my problem, though. I love my wife very much, but I have found that I cannot *another cough* make love to her. The doctors in town have all told me that they have no cure. Can you help me?" He finished, and I sensed a note of desperation in his voice at the end. Connor, who stood behind me, shifted uncomfortably. I had almost forgotten he was there because he had been so quiet. I felt a little bad for putting him in this awkward situation.

Such talk did not bother me much, even though speaking of such things to a woman was unheard of, as I prided myself on my professionalism. I simply viewed it as any other ailment that needed treatment, and I happened to be the only person capable of doing this. Most women would have shied away from difficulties such as this, having to do exclusively with men. But then again, I had already come to terms with my abnormality. If I did not set my skills to good use then who would?

The man was still looking very nervous, his eyes shifting to the door every few seconds. He looked as if he were ready to bolt at any moment. I still thought it strange that the man was still so uncomfortable, but paid it no mind. Instead, I smiled and nodded, trying to ease the other man's nerves. Connor looked sharply at me, as if not believing I actually had a cure for the man's problem. I ignored him, getting on with my work.

"It seems you suffer from impotence. There is no need to worry, it is more common of a problem than you might think. I have something that will help." I got up and went to my medicine cabinet while relaying the standard information, "this is a tonic of my own creation. It will cure your ailment temporarily, meaning it will only be in your system for about a day, before it is digested and no longer of use. I also must discourage any consumption of alcohol while using this. Have you any specific allergies?" I asked, shifting through my cabinet and taking out a wooden box full of small bottles, each filled with the same dark, cloudy green liquid. The man nodded, still looking a bit sweaty, but relieved at the same time.

"Pine nuts, madam." He told me. I nodded pulling a vial out of the box for him to see.

"Then you should have no trouble taking this. One vial should be enough for one night, but they are very expensive as they are rather hard to make. They cost 200£ each." I told him. The fidgety man nodded in relief. He took three bottles of the tonic out of the box and wrapped them carefully in a handkerchief. He placed a bag of coins, which I carefully weighed the weight of in my hand. It seemed about right, if not more. The man bowed.

"I am most grateful for your help, fine lady." He told me respectfully, though a bit hurried. I nodded with a smile, happy to see that I had helped someone.

"I hope to see a letter arrive soon with the news of the successful birth of your first child. Good luck to you." I said happily. He nodded with a wistful smile, forgetting for a moment his earlier nervousness. Then he seemed to remember something. He checked his pocket watch, and his face scrunched up in panic. He looked to me and then to the door, looking suddenly in a frenzy.

"If you are late for something, you are most welcome to leave now if you must, mister...?" I trailed off, leaving him to fill in the name.

"Filbrook, my lady. I am terribly sorry, but there is someone I must meet with." He said. I nodded, giving him permission to go. He hurried towards the exit, tripping on a loose floorboard in his haste. He slammed into me, knocking me to the ground in the process. I wheezed and coughed uncomfortably as the man's full body weight pressed down on me. Connor made a sound from behind me that resembled a growl and pulled the man of me by the collar of his shirt. I quickly returned to my feet and brushed myself off.

"I am terribly sorry." Mr. Filbrook said quickly, backing away from me and sending a nervous glance towards the hostile Native. I pulled my hood back over my face, hoping the customer hadn't seen, and sent a warning glance towards Connor. He crossed his arms over his chest and exhaled heavily, somehow managing to look like a pouting child while still giving off that stoic aura. I giggled.

"It's perfectly alright. No harm done. Now best be on your way before you're late for your meeting." I told him kindly, though secretly wishing he would go so I could end this whole uncomfortable mess. Such fidgety clients always tired me out. Mr. Filbrook nodded and made his way towards the door. He stopped, turned, and tipped his hat to me.

"I wish you and your husband a good day, Mrs. Evelyn." He said before scurrying out. My brows furrowed at the comment. Husband? I looked at Connor, realizing the man must have thought I was married to him. I blushed at the implication and looked away. If only. Connor didn't feel that way about me.

"I did not know you sold such remedies." He said politely, though still sounding uncomfortable with the subject. I busied myself with replacing the box of medicine in the cabinet and putting away my cloak. "Why is it that you make it?"

"Because there are many men out there who need it. Even if they are too embarrassed to admit it." I replied as I closed the cabinet. There was a moment of silence before I heard him sigh quietly. I turned to him to find out the reason, but when I looked at his face, it had returned to his usual stoic expression.

"Come, it is getting late. We should get some supper." He said before quickly walking out. I had a feeling he was displeased in someway, but I could not gather the reason why. It had seemed a fairly normal business transaction. Had I done something wrong? I wonder what was bothering him.

So I hurried after him out the door, leaving the seemingly harmless encounter behind me.

**_Alright, I hope you guys enjoyed that. I certainly enjoyed rewriting it. I can't wait till we get to the real romance. And let me tell you, it's not going to come easily. I've got something big planned. And the next chapter is going to kick it off. Hello drama. I hate drama in real life, but writing it is so much fun. So remember to tell me what you think in the comments, because I'm serious when I tell you it's the only thing that keeps me going. Love ya!_**


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